


We Can Try

by FeralCreed



Series: Finding Bucky [2]
Category: Ant-Man (2015), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crack, Darcy is a bamf, Depression, F/M, Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag This, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, Medical issues, Nightmares, PTSD, Slow Burn, Steve just wants to help, aou semi-compliant, bucky has problems, headcanons, i don't really know how to tag this, mcu - Freeform, most of it is pg13, or at least not-sad ending, rape mention, really slow burn, self-harm mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralCreed/pseuds/FeralCreed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's finally got his Bucky back. Whether or not Sergeant Barnes stays is another matter entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Bucky woke in a strange place, warmer than before but still cold. He turned his head and the simple act irritated his trachea enough that he started coughing. By the time he could breath normally again, Steve was at his side, crouched so that their faces were level. One of his hands rested on Bucky's shoulder and he wore a look of concern. “What's with the deathbed look?” Bucky grumbled, sitting up and pushing Steve's hand away. “I'm not planning on dying anytime soon.” When Dr. Cho entered the room he stiffened.

“Bucky, she's another friend,” Steve said. Pain had flashed across his face when Bucky pushed him away but now he hid it. “She's a doctor.”

Bucky flinched at the word and his body weight shifted like he wanted to run. He could tell Steve was looking at him curiously, but he didn't look back. He didn't want to answer Steve's questions and explain what he'd suffered. After all, it had been HYDRA 'doctors' – bone butchers, he'd named them – who had given him his metal arm.

“Steve, the Quinjet is about two minutes out,” the man reported. What was his name? Sam?

“Quinjet?” Bucky asked, the question rising to his lips instinctively. He flinched when all three looked at him but Steve smiled reassuringly.

“It's okay. You can ask whatever questions and say whatever you want. Don't be afraid. A Quinjet is like a plane. Do you remember what those are?”

Bucky's head tilted back and to the side. “Like the one you crashed into the river?”

“That was a helicarrier. The Quinjet is a lot smaller, but the same basic thing,” Steve agreed. “Although I'm going to try not to crash this one. It's going to take us back to Stark's Tower.”

Bucky's brow furrowed. “Howard Stark?”

“No, his son. Tony.”

“Genius asshole?”

Steve's mouth twisted into a grin. “Yeah, some people would say that.”

The woman. cleared her throat quietly. “While we're en route back to New York, I'm going to start a saline drip via IV. It's a precursor for the blood you need-”

“Uh-uh.” Bucky wasn't aware he'd protested until he realized the others were staring at him. From the look on Steve's face, he guessed he'd whimpered the word.

It was Steve who tried to talk him into it. “Bucky-”

“Don't make me. Please.” Bucky knew as he spoke that he was wasting his breath. HYDRA and SHIELD had been two sides of the same coin, and even though SHIELD had pretended to be righteous, he knew their operatives would be no less ruthless than HYDRA's. Steve, Sam, and the woman were all SHIELD members. HYDRA/SHIELD didn't allow disorderly assets. The memory of what had happened the last time he'd disobeyed surfaced to proportionate fear.

“Bucky, please look at me,” Steve said. “Do you think I would hurt you?”

“SHIELD and HYDRA are the same organization. You were employed by SHIELD, therefore you were employed by HYDRA. HYDRA punishes those who deserve it. Disobedient assets deserve punishment.” Bucky recited the line of reasoning automatically. It had been tortured into him for years, and whenever he'd pushed the definition of obedience he'd been forcefully reminded.

“I don't work for SHIELD any more,” Steve said. “Both it and HYDRA were destroyed the day the helicarriers crashed. You're not an asset any more. You're a human being. You're my best friend. And no matter what you do, you will never deserve to be punished.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you trust me?”

“Captain Rogers?”

“Steve. Yeah?”

“Captain Rogers was SHIELD. I trust my Steve.” Bucky glanced from Sam to Dr. Cho to Steve, the haunted look fading from his eyes but still lurking. “What do I have to do?”

“You just have to sit there,” Steve promised. “I'll be right at your side through the whole trip. Are you okay with physical contact?”

Bucky shrugged. He hadn't considered the question. He blinked rapidly and stared at Steve's face for a moment before focusing on it.

“Bucky, don't go to sleep,” Steve warned. He noticed the way Bucky stiffened at his tone and tried to soften it. “I'm sorry for being harsh. Please forgive me. But if you go to sleep, it could be dangerous.”

“You have to stay awake until your blood is replenished,” Dr. Cho xplained. “If your levels are low enough that you passed out, we need to get least two units of blood into you before you even take a nap. Once we get back to the Tower you can sleep as long as you want.”

“How long?” Bucky asked, puzzled.

“Until you want to wake up,” Steve clarified. “It's entirely your choice.”

Bucky turned this idea over in his mind, then nodded. “Okay,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Hey, Cap,” Sam interrupted, “the Quinjet's here.”

“Legion 04 is the only Iron Legion member coming with us,” Dr. Cho said. “I'll give the others their orders.” She left, and Sam followed her, saying something about a front-row seat in the Quinjet.

“Ready?” Steve asked Bucky.

The dark-haired man bit at his lip, his eyes full of fear at the unknown and the trust he would be putting in Steve by going. Steve stood up and held out his hand, and after a long moment Bucky took it. “Till the end of the line?” he asked, and he would have sworn that suddenly Steve's eyes were full of tears.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve was true to his word – from the moment Bucky chose a seat on the Quinjet, Steve stayed right beside him. Dr. Cho needed Bucky's flesh arm for the medical work, so Steve rubbed his finger across his friend's metal knuckles. When he'd moved to take Bucky's hand as he normally would have, Sam had coughed in the cockpit and Steve realized that it was best not to put himself at the risk of being hurt by Bucky's metal limb. He tried to ignore the scrape of metal on metal as Bucky clenched his hand in response to the sting of the needle under his skin, but there wasn't much else to listen to.

Sam had examined the music library available on the Quinjet console, but there was nothing besides hard rock, and he didn't think any of the passengers would appreciate it very much. He wasn't needed in the cockpit, since JARVIS was more than capable of bringing the Quinjet to the Tower and landing it, but he knew Bucky wasn't likely to be capable of taking so much human contact. In fact, he wasn't quite sure how Bucky was handling his post-collapse situation, much less the collapse itself, but he wasn't going to push the situation. Whether it was Thor looking out for them or another god somewhere in the heavens, he hoped they kept an eye out until they landed.

“There will be some bruising around the needle site,” Dr. Cho explained. She spoke quietly and focused on her equipment rather than looking Bucky in the eyes. “But if any other bruises or sensitive areas develop, especially on your arm, I need to know, okay? It could be a symptom that your body isn't taking the blood transfer well.”

“I got a bogey on radar,” Sam called from the cockpit. “JARVIS, any info?”

“The signal matches Iron Legion 04, sir,” a disembodied voice answered. Bucky's head swiveled widely as he tried to find its source but Steve reassured him that it was okay and he inhaled deeply to keep himself from panicking at the strange voice. “I'll be opening the back hatch in thirty-eight seconds. All passengers should be strapped into their seats.”

“Bucky, you have to wear a seat belt for a little while,” Steve said. “Nothing bad is going to happen. You're going to be okay. It's only going to be a few seconds.” Although Bucky did nothing to stop Steve from buckling his seat belt, he cast a frightened glance at the back hatch as if expecting a HYDRA squadron to burst through it. When the doors moved back, however, 04's metallic form was the only one in sight. Once the robot had landed inside the Quinjet, the hatch closed and Steve was unbuckling Bucky's seatbelt without being asked.

“The saline drip should only take another forty minutes or so,” Dr. Cho estimated, unbuckling her own belt. “Steve, let me know when there's half an inch of saline left and I'll get a blood bag so we can transfer the input.” She gave the two a small smile and went to join Sam in the cockpit.

“Still okay?” Steve asked Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. He hadn't noticed how tightly he'd been gripping the contoured edge of his seat, but he was pretty sure nobody else had left fingermarks in the metal. If he was going to stay at the Tower that Steve had referred to, that couldn't keep happening. He wasn't sure if Steve had noticed the marks, but neither of them referred to them. Steve didn't seem inclined to talk if Bucky didn't initiate the conversation, and they both fell silent. Unlike stakeouts or down time at HYDRA bases, this silence was comfortable enough that Bucky didn't feel like he wanted to start screaming. He rested his head against the wall of the Quinjet, not caring about the rattling of the hull. If his mind was occupied by his bodily discomfort, he would be too distracted to think about darker things.

Just over forty-five minutes passed before Steve spoke. “Bucky? I'm going to go to the cockpit and tell Dr. Cho that the saline drip is almost finished. I'll be right back.” Bucky nodded and Steve stood up. He only exchanged a few words with Dr. Cho before they were both coming back toward him.

Dr. Cho gave him a brief smile but didn't seem inclined to make eye contact. Bucky wasn't sure if she was afraid of him or realizing that he didn't want anything to do with her. After she exchanged the saline bag for a blood bag, she checked the controls on the IV stand and scribbled a note on her clipboard. “Let me know if you feel anything strange. Faster heartbeat, increased sensitivity, tingling in your fingers. Usually I would keep the flow level a few notches lower, but the quicker we get this into you the quicker you'll start recovering.”

Bucky nodded, wordless but awake, and she left them to go back to her seat in the cockpit. His gaze followed her, but mistrust gave way to the flicker of a half-formed smile when he saw the cloudy sky outside the cockpit. HYDRA missions weren't designed to give him a scenic view, but the few times he'd caught a glimpse of the sky were special moments. There had been few positive memories from his years of murder, and flying made up almost all of them. Even with all the amazing advances science had made since the 1940s, there was something distinctly magical about flying.

“What do you see out there?” asked a curious, half-wondering voice. Bucky's gaze snapped to Steve's face and for a moment Steve looked guilty for distracting him.

Bucky shrugged, his glance flicking back to the open sky before returning to Steve. His mouth opened, then closed, and he bit his bottom lip as he tried to think of the right words. “Open,” he suggested. “No cages.” The right word came to him and he almost smiled. “Freedom,” he said, proud of himself for getting the term right. He dipped his head in a nod and looked back at Steve, his lips quirking into an expression that might almost have been a smile.

“I never thought of it like that,” Steve said, looking down the length of the Quinjet and out the cockpit window. “You're right. When it's not storming, it's downright beautiful out there. Clint said the same thing once but we never really paid attention to what he meant.” He noticed the curious tilt of Bucky's head and smiled. “Clint is another Avenger. The media calls him Hawkeye, probably because of the bow-and-arrow thing. Good guy, really patient, some weird habits but he gets along with everybody on the team. Not many people can manage that, to be honest. We can be a pretty strange bunch.”

“What about me?”

“You're not strange,” Steve hastened to reassure him. “But there's a big difference between some of the team members that sometimes it can be a little tough.”

Bucky shook his head. “Will I get along with them?” The ever-present panic in his eyes was beginning to stir from its dormant state.

“Yeah, of course you will,” Steve said soothingly. He reached across Bucky's lap to take his flesh hand in his own. “The team couldn't not like you. And you don't even have to talk to them if you don't want to. Just take care of yourself and rest. We all need some time off eventually. Do whatever you want if it helps you recover.”

Bucky nodded. He sat quietly for a moment, dormant as he sorted this information in his mind. Then he softly returned Steve's pressure on his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Cho replaced Bucky's blood bag after another forty minutes had passed. She and Sam held an intermittent conversation, but Bucky still didn't speak except to answer direct questions and Steve remained quiet as well. JARVIS announced that they were approaching the tower and the Quinjet's speed slowed appreciably a few moments later. The landing went smoothly as far as the 'jet was concerned, but the people inside were a different story.

Legion 04 left to report for maintenance after being dismissed from the hangar. Dr. Cho made Sam go with her to make sure all her supplies had arrived like they were supposed to. Stark had put in an appearance, but Dr. Cho had banished him to his lab before he'd even come within hearing range of the Quinjet, and there weren't any other Avengers around. This left the two supersoldiers alone in the hangar and Steve in charge of Bucky, who was completely rethinking his decision to go with him.

“Bucky, you can't permanently live in the Quinjet,” Steve said. Although he was trying to stay calm with his friend, and had been told several times that he had the patience of a saint when it came to dealing with fractious superheroes, he was rapidly running out of ideas that would peacefully get his best friend out of the Quinjet. “Will you please just come inside?”

Bucky shook his head and gripped the seat tighter with his metal hand. His right arm was laying on his lap, and while he was strictly observing Dr. Cho's order to not bend it, he wasn't obeying anything else. Every time Steve asked him to leave the Quinjet, he simply shook his head and stared past the Quinjet's interior at the sky. So far he hadn't bothered to explain why he didn't want to move, or to even say anything at all. Apart from his right arm thrust out in front of him, the rest of his body was curled in on itself like becoming small was the best mode of self-protection.

Steve stood up and started pacing the floor of the Quinjet, frustrated at the impasse he'd reached. “Bucky, why can't you just tell me why you don't want to leave? If there's a reason, then we can stay here. Nothing is going to hurt you in the Tower. I promise. I don't want to force you but you can't be here on your own. Please don't make me do this.”

Ever since Steve had moved to stand between Bucky and the cockpit, he'd had been staring at the floor to avoid making eye contact. At the blond's last sentence his head came up. “You said that before,” he said, brow furrowing as he tried to remember. “'Please don't make me do this'. What does it mean?” He wanted to ask Steve to help him again, but even his current levels of desperation couldn't override decades of HYDRA conditioning. Asking for help was a weakness that needed to be purged from waywardly assets, purged with pain and punishment. Even if he couldn't remember the treatment, he could always remember the fear.

“It means I don't want to hurt you,” Steve promised. “Please, Bucky. Come inside the Tower. Just take a quick look.”

Bucky shook his head again, a sharp, jerking movement. “Too many walls,” he mumbled. “Cages. No sky.” He craned his neck to look past Steve and out the cockpit. It was almost dark outside now, and the fiery reds and oranges of the sunset were beginning to fade into purples and blues.

“We can stay in the main room,” Steve suggested. “Two of the walls are all glass. You can always see the sky in both directions. And we can get Tony to knock down the other walls so it's more open. There's no cages. Nobody's going to hurt you. This place is a safehouse for an entire team of people, remember? It's impossible for anyone to get in here to harm you. I won't let them.”

Bucky shook his head again, but he switched his attention from the sky to the inside of the hangar. While he was still protesting, he seemed to at least be considering Steve's proposition. Despite his friend's promise of safety, he'd been lied to too many times to blindly believe anyone. He didn't trust things until he saw them for himself. Life was too dangerous and painful.

“You said that you trusted your Steve, right? Trust me one more time,” Steve pleaded. “Do it for me.”

“Sky?” Bucky mumbled, looking up into Steve's eyes. They had been the colour of the sky once, but now they looked different.

“Yeah. You can see the sky. A lot of it. Sometimes it seems like you can see half the New York skyline. There's no cages, either. No punishments. Just people who want to make sure you're okay.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip as he weighed his options. Suddenly he flung his left arm out and gave Steve a pleading glance that he couldn't help. He laced his fingers tightly through Steve's but eased up on the pressure when he caught Steve's wince. Steve handled the fractious IV stand, which had a tendency to roll off to the left when it was supposed to go straight, and led Bucky into the hangar. They stopped at least twice for every foot of ground they covered, but eventually Steve managed to get Bucky into the main room.

At that point, Bucky had to stop inside the doorway for a full three minutes. Steve knew exactly what he was doing – cataloging potential threats, weapons, and escape routes. For months after waking up, he'd done the same thing. He leaned against the doorway, fighting back a yawn, and let Bucky take his time in deciding whether or not to trust this new place. When Sam wandered in, aimed for the refrigerator, Steve asked him to pass word of the new arrangements on to Dr. Cho.

“You Avengers people never take time to eat, do you?” Sam grumbled. “That was a good pizza we left at the motel room.” He left and came back a few minutes later with Dr. Cho in tow, both of them bearing several boxes of equipment. While Dr. Cho started setting up her equipment, Sam brought in a few more boxes. Steve didn't need Bucky to tug softly on his hand and ask him with his eyes to stay.

With Steve's help, Dr. Cho had the necessary equipment and monitors set up in about twenty minutes. Sam was put in charge of converting the common area into a sleeping area, since Bucky refused to let go of Steve's hand. By the time Dr. Cho had started Bucky's third blood bag, the room was completely rearranged. All the furniture had been pushed into a cluster against the far wall, where they didn't get in the way or obstruct the view out the windows. The chest-high bar separating the kitchen from the common area now sported half a dozen lamps and several decorations from the tables. Iron Legion robots had brought four beds in, and Sam and Steve had pushed them into suitable positions near the window. Several of the boxes stacked on the couches against the wall held extra linens, and Sam deposited half a dozen blankets and a change of clothing on the far left bed. One of the Legion had also brought some of Steve's and Sam's personal belongings with the beds, and a pack made up for Dr. Cho, who would be staying overnight to make sure Bucky recovered properly.

Dinner, Dr. Cho warned, was to be kept simple. Sam insisted on getting a pizza to replace the one he'd left in Michigan, and he joined Tony in the lab to eat, bearing two plates full of hot food. The others sat in the refurbished common area, Dr. Cho on one bed and Steve and Bucky across from her. Bucky refused to sit on one of the high-backed chairs, and none of them felt like dragging the couches into a more comfortable arrangement, so the beds were their best choice. As Dr. Cho was depositing the dishes in the sink, the IV monitor beeped to indicate that the last bag had finished being pumped into Bucky's system. As soon as the needle was out of him, Bucky backed away to the other end of the room, glaring at the machine the entire time.

Steve insisted that Bucky change into more comfortable clothes and brush his teeth. Dr. Cho went to get Sam and to tell Tony how things were progressing. She, Steve, and Sam took turns showering and getting changed. Once the four of them had settled in and the lights were off, the Tower was strangely quiet. On any other night there would have been a fifty/fifty chance that Tony would have set the smoke alarms off down in his lab, but it seemed like even he had decided to get some rest. Bucky sat up in bed, unwilling to sleep despite the late hour and what he had been told was a secure position. Steve had asked one of the Legion to fix a mirror to the metal struts at an angle that would let Bucky see behind him, and the dark-haired soldier was content to keep one eye on his surroundings and the other on the dark blue sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm on a daily posting schedule now. Things are going to get a little more interesting soon, and there's a hell of an ending (I may or may not have written the whole thing already). Just letting you know now. Thanks so much for all the kudos and hits I've already gotten! I'd love to hear your opinions and such so feel free to comment too ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Steve woke up early but Bucky was awake before him. “Did you sleep at all last night?” Steve asked, concerned. Bucky only shrugged in reply and wouldn't look directly at him. Heaving a sigh, Steve went into the kitchen and started making a pot of coffee. As soon as the scent hit him, Bucky slipped out of bed and moved into the kitchen, perching on the edge of the island and watching Steve's every move. Sam joined them a few minutes later, brought into consciousness by the olfactory promise of coffee. Dr. Cho was still sleeping and they decided to let her wake up on her own.

“Sirs and Dr.,” JARVIS announced, the voice startling Bucky, “Mr. Stark will be arriving in just over ninety seconds via the elevator. He intends to meet the Quinjet in the hangar. It is approaching the hanger with Mr. Barton, Ms. Romanoff, Mr. and Ms. Maximoff, and Ms. Hill on board, and has an estimated arrival time of four minutes.”

Bucky made a strangled sound deep in his throat, swung his body over the counter, and dashed for the bathroom. Sam and Steve could hear the lock engage all the way from the kitchen. Dr. Cho woke up at this point, featuring ruffled hair and confusion, but seemed to understand Bucky's actions. Her only question was, “Is there another bathroom around here?” Steve pointed her in the right direction and she left, yawning.

Steve left the coffeepot in Sam's care and went to the bathroom. “Bucky?” he asked. “It's okay. Tony's a good guy. He's not going to hurt you. Sam and I wouldn't let him. And besides, he's an Avenger, remember? One of the good guys. He helped us bring down HYDRA. Without his tech, we never would have managed it.” He kept rambling and eventually the lock clicked open. When no sign of the soldier behind it followed, Steve cracked it open himself. Bucky had retreated to the counter of the sink and was sitting on it, staring at the door. Steve leaned sideways against the doorjamb, slumping his frame against it, and let Bucky come to him in his own time. Eventually Steve managed to get his friend back into the common area, but his progress only lasted until the elevator doors opened.

Tony stepped into the room and saw only a blur of movement before people started yelling. “Suit!” he screeched, running for the cover of the table pushed against the wall. It took only seconds for a red-and-gold set of armor to arrive through the air ducts. Once the suit had encased his body, the repulsors and face plate glowed to life.

“Tony, stand down!” Steve yelled, standing in the middle of the common area with his hands spread. Dr. Cho was standing in the corner, trying to stay out of the way of trouble. Sam had his wings on but hadn't activated them yet. Bucky was in the rafters, fingers crinkling the metal struts, appearing to be in the middle of a panic attack. And as if the situation wasn't bad enough, at this moment the doors from the hanger opened and they could see the team starting to disembark from the Quinjet. “Dr. Cho, would you be kind enough to tell the team what's happening and ask them to stay where they are?” Dr. Cho nodded and scurried from the room, giving Bucky's rafter a wide berth.

“Hey, what's going on?” Tony flipped up his face plate and turned at Steve, who dropped his hands. “Sam and Dr. Cho said you brought back a friend but instead you have a brainwashed super-soldier assassin currently sitting in the ceiling. That's the kind of thing you need to let the homeowner know ahead of time. What's the status of things in here?”

“Things were fine until JARVIS said we had people incoming,” Sam mentioned, goggles dangling from one hand. “Is there a way we can get the team inside without going through this room? Once everyone's out of here that he doesn't trust, I think he'll come down. We just need to take things way slower. Don't feel bad about it, Tony. Lots of people feel like screaming when you come into a room.”

“Your wit is not appreciated. JARVIS,” Tony ordered, “reroute the Quinjet to the other hanger and let the team know what's up.”

“Yes, sir,” the robot acknowledged blandly. “Updating the Quinjet's route now. Ms. Romanoff has informed me that she will be joining you shortly.”

“It's Natalia Romanova to this bastard hiding up in the ceiling,” Natasha corrected, sashaying into the room with a smirk on her face and her hair up in a bun. “привет, James. Tony, get out of here before you actually make things worse.” Tony shrugged and backed out of the room and into the hanger. The doors slid shut behind him.

Bucky had been hiding as much as he could until this moment, but now his head popped into view. “Где ты взялся?” he asked, sounding equal parts curious and accusatory.

“Я скажу вам, если вы дошли. Это всего лишь Steve и Sam и я здесь.”

Bucky made a disgruntled noise and retreated into his corner. A few moments later, though, he looked back out, eyes bright with curiosity and recognition. “Natalia?”

“Кто еще, идиот?” She grinned at him, hands on her hips, and added, “Сойди с там и поздороваться.”

Bucky nodded and swung down from the ceiling. Steve breathed a sigh of relief but stayed where he was, letting Bucky choose the course of events. Natasha opened her arms and Bucky gazed at her curiously. “Natalia?” he repeated hopefully. She nodded and he ran for her. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and he breathed in deeply.

“Что ты так долго?” Natasha murmured fondly, folding her hands over the small of his back. Bucky rested his cheek on the side of her head and huffed out a short breath rather than replying. “знаю,” she said. “знаю это больно иногда. все будет в порядке. Я здесь для тебя.”

“Last time you hurt me,” Bucky accused her, voice full of pain and confusion. “What did I do wrong? I was doing my mission.”

“You didn't do anything wrong, Snowman. It was someone else who was responsible. That's why we're going to take care of you now. And I'm going to teach you.” Bucky's head tilted, bird-like, as he considered this possibility, and Natasha heard his unspoken question. “All kinds of things. Like how to cook good food. Do you remember the safehouse Kazakhstan? No? That's okay. I'll tell you about it if you come and sit down with me.”

Bucky followed her to the row of beds, his right hand holding tightly onto hers. Sam stepped out of their way, and when Natasha gestured toward the elevator with her free hand, he nodded and left. Natasha sat and Bucky leaned his back against hers, suspiciously studying the skyline outside the window and the room around him. When she started talking, he stiffened, but the low cadence of her voice didn't change, even when the jangle of Steve's phone ringing nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.

Steve quietly slipped into the kitchen to check his messages, feeling a brief surge of anger at whoever had disturbed them but knowing it was accidental. He wanted to be at Bucky's side, making sure he was okay, but he knew that right now Bucky could only take so much human interaction before their company got on his nerves. Natasha had gotten him down from the rafters, after all, and their history together obviously meant he trusted her. Steve had never asked how they knew each other – in fact, he'd thought they only met a couple times – but now he wondered just how close they had been. He answered Tony's querying text with an “all okay” and set the device to quiet.

Almost two hours passed, during which the rest of the Tower remained suspiciously quiet. Natasha talked to Bucky until he stopped jumping at every noise. He bumped Natasha' elbow with his own and she rolled the back of her head across his shoulders to look at him. “You back with me, Snowman?” she asked, a familiar smirking tone in her voice. He nodded quietly, hair brushing against her forehead. “Want to go to Steve or stay here?” Bucky shrugged but Natasha could feel his center of gravity shift toward the kitchen, where Steve was pretending not to listen. “Okay, let's go.” She stood up and held her hand out to him, but he kept his arms crossed as he followed her. Steve only got a quick glimpse of his eyes before Bucky stared at the floor again.

“Are you doing better now?” Steve asked cautiously, unsure if he was going to trigger Bucky again.

Bucky tilted his head in thought then nodded, his gaze on the floor. Steve couldn't tell if he was lying.

“There's nothing wrong with being scared. Sometimes I'm afraid too. It's okay. You're not alone in this. Natasha and I will always be here for you. You can come to us with anything.”

Bucky nodded and offered a brief, fragile smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pietro is very much alive in this fic because the end of AOU was not acceptable. I'll explain it in a later chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Russian translations (I tried my best with this but if I got something wrong don't hate me).  
> Bucky: Where did you come from?  
> Natasha: I'll tell you if you come down. It's just Steve and Sam and I here.  
> Bucky: Natalia?  
> Natasha: Who else, idiot? Come down from there and say hello. - What took you so long? - I know. I know it hurts sometimes. Everything will be all right. I'm here for you.


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky was alone and drowning. Steve and Natasha had left him and he was by himself, shivering despite the warm air. The Tower had asked them to meet the rest of the team in a downstairs conference room, and Bucky had assured them that he was fine with being by himself. When Bucky suggested that the Tower let them know if anything happened to him or if he needed anything, they had finally acquiesced and left him alone. As soon as they left, Bucky had grabbed a handful of blankets, took half a dozen steak knives from the kitchen, and planted himself in a corner that let him see most of the room as well as the sky.

“Do you require assistance, Mr. Barnes?” the Tower asked. Bucky flipped off the ceiling, since that was the closest thing to a source he'd found, and the voice went silent. He glared at the ceiling for good measure, then dropped his gaze to stare moodily at the tips of his boots poking out from beneath the blankets. After the others had left, he'd changed back into his old clothes. Scruffy and mismatching though they were, they were familiar and comfortable. Now that he had nothing else familiar around him, they had become essential.

It was quiet in the Tower when nobody else was around. Just as Steve had suspected, Bucky hadn't gotten much sleep last night. He'd simply laid in the darkness, sometimes closing his eyes and matching the breaths to those of the person sleeping next to him when he felt things start to overwhelm him. In fact, he wasn't actually sure if he'd gotten any sleep at all, but he wasn't going to mention that. Steve already worried over him too much, and his half-exasperated, half-fond expression seemed familiar. It was the same almost-maybe-kind-of that Bucky had learned to both expect and hate over the last few days. It happened almost every time he tried to remember something that hadn't happened in the last six months. Bucky replayed the events of the last few hours in his mind, trying to figure out what had happened. Without the imminent threat of human interaction, he was able to work through things and get a tentative chain of events.

His weakness was unacceptable. The Asset did not feel fear, it was an emotion, and emotions were only felt by lesser men. Distorted images of needles and pills filtered through his memory. HYDRA had suppressed hormones and emotions to make him a better killer. He shouldn't have needed so much work. They had expected that he'd no longer need the drugs after a few years, but he'd been punished with injections until the day of his last mission. Unlike HYDRA's other Assets, of which there were few, he had never learned to deal with his crimes without artificial help. If it weren't for his advanced healing factor, the HYDRA scientists had said, his right arm would be peppered with scars from the needles.

As it was, his body healed and his mind stayed in pieces. Brain plasticity, the doctors had harped. Your brain will heal itself of injuries. Injuries, perhaps, but not memories. They remained broken and scattered. Lips moved soundlessly. Disconnected words had no owners. Places in different seasons and years. Without context, he had no use for them, but he tried to remember every one. Somewhere in there was his history, full of gore and hate, and he had to piece it together to understand just how far he'd gone. In the end he was the only one who could remember it all. Even when HYDRA had been destroyed and its files shared with the world, he hadn't found records of all the murders he remembered. Children. Families. Hospital bombings. Planes and ships crashed or waylaid.

Then there had been Steve. A blond-haired man who didn't look like he remembered how to smile. Bucky crossed his arms over his knees and rested his chin on his forearm. He was holding a kitchen knife in his hand and turned it absentmindedly as he tried to remember. First they'd met on the roof after he'd shot a man, the man he'd tried to blow up in his car. HYDRA had punished him for failing that day, but on his second try they'd said he had done well. He hadn't mentioned the man he thought he knew because he wasn't sure whether or not he was hallucinating again. Sometimes he saw or heard things that weren't there, but he'd only mentioned them once. HYDRA had taught him that seeing things that weren't there was dangerous and punishable.

The man on the bridge... the name he hadn't known was his own. He still remembered the momentary flash of utter horror and despair at his ignorance. “Who the hell is Bucky?” he'd demanded, unconsciously murdering two people with his words. If it had just been him and Steve, Bucky wasn't sure if they would still be alive. He would have finished his mission, gone back into cryofreeze, and been dead to the world until the next time HYDRA needed a ghost story with which to scare people into obedience or an assassin to kill those that were brave enough to rebel.

He didn't want that to ever happen to him again.

He didn't want any of his past to be real.

He didn't want to be a monster.

His hands started to shake.

When Steve returned, he found Bucky back in the rafters. This time even Natasha couldn't get him to come down; she asked, then ordered, then asked again, all to no avail. Steve got a lift from a repulsor-powered hoverboard Tony wanted to try out and tried to join his friend in the rafters, but Bucky sat with his back against the wall and a ten-inch-long knife in his hand. His wary expression and feral eyes warned Steve not to touch him. Every time Steve tried to talk to him he grunted and brandished a weapon, and eventually the blond left Bucky to himself in the rafters. Although Bucky had done his best to make sure he would be alone, he couldn't help feeling abandoned by the others. He pulled his feet closer to his body and watched the others move around below him, doing his best to keep an eye on all of them at once.

Sam, Natasha, and Steve met in the room below Bucky for lunch, a full meal that looked good and smelled better. The rest of the team had elected to ignore Bucky's presence, as far as he could tell. None of them had made an appearance or even sent a message through the Tower. From what Bucky had heard of Stark, this was nearly unheard of. When Steve asked if Bucky was hungry, the dark-haired man only glared at him and held up a knife. And that was how the day passed.

Bucky was starting to nod off in the late afternoon, but he poked the tip of the knife into his palm to remind himself to stay awake. He didn't draw more than a drop of blood and wiped his hand on his pants, dismissive of the injury. There were many ways to keep a man awake, most of them worse. HYDRA had made sure he knew every one. A shudder crossed his body, despite the fact that the floor he was on was probably warmer than the rest of the Tower. Steve's doing, he knew, but he wasn't about to abandon his fortress to say thank you. He adjusted his position, sitting cross-legged, and stared out the window at the sky.

The air duct vent near his head clanged down onto the rafters and Bucky leaped for the opposite end of the beam. The blankets tangled around his feet and he almost fell off, but he managed to avoid that by using a knife to slice the blankets apart as he scrambled for safety. A lithe, muscular body unfurled through the duct opening and dropped into the nest of blankets Bucky had left behind. The man stared at Bucky in utter surprise. “Who's this?”

Steve had seemed to instinctively know that Bucky was in trouble and was already standing below them. Bucky doubted ten seconds had passed from the moment the duct lid had fallen, and yet things had changed around so completely that he wasn't at all sure what was going on. Steve stared up in shock at the newcomer, unaware that he was cleanly mirroring his best friend's expression. “Clint?” he asked, baffled. “What are you doing in here? I thought the team was doing a movie night or something two floors down.”

“I was going to nest up here for the night,” Clint said. “But it looks like the roost's taken.” Despite his observance that somebody had taken his spot, he sat down where Bucky had been, dangling a foot on either side of the beam. “So who's this?” he asked, leaning back and locking his hands behind his head. “Sit down and talk a while, stranger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Clint showing up! And for backstory, even with the little feelsy moments. I'm sorry for those. Next chapter coming right up in twenty-four hours!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are getting a bit longer now! And just to avoid confusion, in this chapter I backtracked to the meeting mentioned at the beginning of last chapter. This is the only non-chronological chapter I have planned. Originally I just outlined this to keep track of what happened, but then I decided I might as well post it. We finally get to meet the whole team, yay! Tomorrow's chapter will get back to Clint's intrusion (he has no regard for trivial things like 'personal space', which Bucky is about to learn).

As soon as Steve and Nat had walked into the meeting room, they'd been bombarded with questions. Dr. Cho and Sam had left before “Bucky Incident #1”, as Tony had dubbed it, had been resolved, so the collective attention was turned to the two newest arrivals. Natasha just put her hands up and went to sit on the couch with Clint, propping her feet up on his knee.

“I know you have questions,” Steve said, making the room almost instantly silent. “And I don't know if I have all the answers, but I'll do the best I can. Before you all start clamouring for information, let's get a few things straight. Tony, if you try to play around with Bucky's arm I will put your body with the helicarriers at the bottom of the Potomac. Wanda, please don't take this the wrong way. I respect you and your powers. But please stay away from Bucky. It would be too much for him to have you looking in his head. And since I know you're all wondering how stable Bucky is, all I can say is I don't know. He came to me, so I think that's in his favour, but I'm not about to try to psychologically profile him.”

“Man, you got me right here,” Sam offered. “I'm certified in this stuff. He wants to talk, let me know. I answer my phone 24/7.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, giving his friend a weary but grateful smile.

“Make sure you learn some Russian,” Natasha told Sam, leaning against the arm of the couch so she could face him as she spoke. “When he flashbacks, that's all he remembers how to speak.”

“Flashbacks?” Maria asked. “What kind?”

“When he's been out of cryofreeze too long, or hasn't had a mind wipe, his memories start coming back,” Natasha explained, twisting back around to face her. “It's a lot to handle under the best of circumstances. He's remembering his childhood, his missions, his Army and HYDRA training. There's a lot of pain and guilt. Usually he comes out of it if you leave him alone, and sometimes he doesn't even know anything happened, but sometimes you need to bring him out of it yourself.”

“How do you know this?” Pietro asked. He'd looked more insulted than Wanda had when Steve asked her to stay away from Bucky, but now he mostly looked curious.

“James was loaned to the Red Room as an instructor. He was one of my trainers. I was the only girl who wasn't trying to climb into bed with him so he chose to bunk with me. When he sleeps by himself the nightmares are worse. Steve, you might want to think about a dog. It might help. But when you wake him up from a nightmare, get away from him. Until he remembers where he is he can be violent. He tried to put a pair of scissors into my collarbone once because he mistook me for one of his handlers. Another thing, he's very head-shy. Can't take anything touching or hanging over his head, especially the top of his head and his jaw.”

“Do you think you could make a list of his triggers?” Sam asked.

“Triggers?” This time it was the female Maximoff twin who asked.

“Things that would make him have a panic attack, remember bad things, or get recycled into nightmares,” Steve explained. “Loud noises, yelling, gunshots, strobe lights. Tony, let's keep the experiments and lab fires to a minimum, please.”

“You are no fun,” Tony complained. “This is my Tower, remember that?”

“Can we not start squabbling like children?” Maria interjected. “Steve, I'm assuming you want news of Bucky's return to stay in this room?”

“Yes,” Steve agreed. “Of course, I can't force any of you to keep your silence-”

“Except by threatening to leave our bodies in the river,” Tony mumbled.

Steve ignored him. “But I'm asking for Bucky, and not myself. Right now, I don't know what's enough and what would break him. I think if we just give him time and a safety net, he'll come around to being able to face things.”

“If Natasha could send us all a copy of a potential triggers list, that would be a good start,” Sam said. “And we should set some ground rules and get some plans for what to do if something happens. You won't be able to be at Bucky's side all the time, and if he freaks out while you're not around, we need to know what to do. First priority is obviously keeping Bucky safe, whether it's from other people or himself.”

“Himself?” Pietro asked. “You think he might be suicidal?”

“I don't know if he's suicidal. If he is, he's not likely to try to take the Tower with him, if that's what you're worried about. The biggest probability is that HYDRA trained him to punish himself before he even got back to base, or that he just doesn't realize what a healthy lifestyle looks like. While he's obviously managed to keep himself alive this long, he fainted in a ratty Minnesotan motel room from exhaustion, starvation, and anemia. That's just to name the obvious symptoms. There could be more, and I'm not even going to try to guess at what he's got going on in his head.”

“So it's not self-harm as much as self-negligence?” Wanda asked.

“Exactly,” Natasha agreed. “He was like that even in the Red Room days. Sometimes he would forget to eat. He took orders and that was it. One of the other trainers was assigned the responsibility of telling him to eat at every meal. Otherwise he would just sit in his quarters staring at the wall. He does that a lot in his free time and it's not good for him. We need to keep him busy, but we also need to avoid giving him orders. That's probably another one of his triggers.”

“Dr. Cho, how long do you think he'll need a medical eye on him?” Clint asked.

“Probably not after tonight, unless something else comes up,” Dr. Cho said. “Of course, he needs someone to pay close attention to his lifestyle. Like Natasha said, he'll probably forget to eat. It's common with depression, PTSD, and trauma patients. The biggest two problems will be the night terrors and the anemia. I'll leave instructions for the latter. The former I can't do much about.”

“What do you think about the dog idea?” Steve asked.

“It could work. Many veterans and emotional victims claim that having an animal in their life helps them. Of course, Bucky probably won't be up to taking care of the animal right away, so the responsibilities of that would go to someone else, at least at first.”

“I'll get your boy a dog, then, Cap,” Clint said. “If you're good with that.”

“Buck always wanted a dog when we were kids,” Steve answered. “I think it would help him. Thank you.”

“What about Bruce and Thor?” Natasha asked. “If either of them just show up without warning, Bucky could be through the roof in seconds.”

“We can leave word with Jane's crew,” Maria suggested. “He rarely comes to the Tower without stopping to see Jane first.”

“And if Bruce still has the Quinjet, JARVIS can patch through an automatically displayed message,” Tony added. “We can decide what to tell him. Banner doesn't have any history with Bucky, right?”

Natasha and Steve glanced at each other, then shook their heads. “The only team members he's met are myself, Steve, and Sam,” Nat said. “Although he did know Tony's father, I don't think he ever met Tony himself.”

“The Stark Expo before we shipped out,” Steve remembered. “Howard was working on some kind of flying car. Bucky made me go with him and a couple girls he'd picked up. Said it would be fun.”

Maria broke his concentration. “So, to summarize...” She waited for a go-ahead nod from Cap before continuing. “Natasha, you're going to get a list of possible triggers to us. Tony, you're going to work communications to Bruce and Thor, and if you could get together a playlist of soothing music for when Bucky wakes up from nightmares, that would probably be helpful. Dr. Cho will be dealing with medical and then going back to the lab. Sam, if you could get a gen-ed information packet on PTSD together, I'm sure it would be a useful read. Clint's going to get a dog – legally, please, Barton.”

“So we're the only ones without jobs?” Pietro asked, glancing at his sister and then back at Maria.

“I do have a job for you, if you want it,” Maria said. “Wanda, if you could start putting together a Russian and an ASL lexicon, that would be great. The team needs to learn Russian in case Bucky flashbacks, but I was thinking that learning ASL would be something that could keep him busy, like Natasha suggested.”

“I can do that,” Wanda agreed.

“Pietro, you have a slightly more dangerous mission. Whenever someone's in the room with Bucky, I want you on standby to get them out of there. Your speed makes you the best option. And I think Bucky might be able to relate you to Steve – you both volunteered for a German-run project to get new abilities to protect ones you loved – which would make him less likely to attack you. That would mean he would learn your backstory, though.”

“If Wanda's okay with it, I'm fine,” Pietro said. She nodded.

“I'll get some team bios up and offer it as reading,” Steve suggested. “I'll be able to work on that and keep an eye on Bucky at the same time.”

“Sounds good,” Maria said. “Call me if you have any problems. I'm only a Quinjet flight away, as usual. Best of luck with him. He really does deserve a second chance.” She stood up, nodded to the team, and left the room.

The team strayed off to their different assignments. Since Pietro was on standby, he flipped through the television channels. Clint, Sam, and Steve had left with Maria, and Dr. Cho departed soon afterward. Apart from their agreement to meet for dinner, none of the team had any other real plans, so the Tower fell into a reasonably quiet peace.


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky risked a glance down at Steve, then turned his attention back to Clint. “Who are you?” he parried, unwilling to answer the other man's question just yet.

“Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye. Do not call me Legolas.”

“Legolas?” Steve asked.

Clint's face took on a pained expression. “Lord of the Rings movie night, coming right up,” he said. “It's Tony's nickname for me. You'll probably get one too, sooner or later. He calls Steve Capsicle.”

“Capsicle,” Bucky repeated. He looked down at Steve again, nearly smiling. “I'll have to remember that.”

“He usually doesn't answer to it,” Clint said. “But I'm sure he would if you called him that.”

“You know what, Barton?” Steve asked.

“I know a lot of things, Cap. Be specific.”

Steve shook his head and walked away. He flicked the television on and sat down on one of the beds. Whatever Clint was doing, Steve might as well give him a shot (pun intended) at it without hovering around him and Bucky like an anxious parent.

“Steve's pretty happy to have you back, you know that?” Clint asked, settling back against the wall. He pulled the blankets into a pile and pushed them toward Bucky, leaving them between them as a peace offering. “Took him a long time to find out where you were. It took some help from Thor, actually. You ever meet the guy?”

Bucky shook his head, barely moving. He still wasn't sure what to think of this strange man who seemed so utterly unafraid of him.

“He's at least seven feet tall,” Clint said. “Okay, maybe a little shorter. But he is really big. Instead of a bow or a shield or something he uses this big hammer. Nobody else can lift it. It's like this signature thing that he does. Calling down thunder and lightning from the sky.”

“I've seen that,” Bucky interrupted. He flinched as he realized he'd interrupted Clint's monologue, but the archer didn't seem to mind.

“Pretty impressive, right?” Clint asked with a grin. “I'd love to be able to do something like that. At a party a couple months ago, we all had a contest to see if anyone could lift Thor's hammer. None of us managed it, but I'm pretty sure Cap almost got it. Those two work pretty well together. Steve's shield is one of the only things that can stand up to Thor's lightning, being vibranium and all. Thor'll shoot his lightning at the shield and it spreads the electricity around so they hit a bunch of guys at once. It came in really helpful in Slovakia. Did you hear about all that stuff with Ultron?”

Bucky shrugged and held up his right hand, his thumb and index finger held about an inch apart.

“We picked up two newbies for the team during that whole episode. Pietro and Wanda Maximoff, twins. They were kids when their parents died. Since then they were doing a bunch of stuff, but they've only been with the Avengers for about a month and a half. Actually, Wanda's been with us longer than her brother. We thought we lost him, but his body disappeared during all the chaos when we were landing the civilians. Turns out his body healed itself from being shot and when he woke up not knowing what happened he panicked and ran off. And can this guy run. You never see him coming. That's actually the first time he ever said anything to me. Knocked me on my ass and when I was looking around trying to figure out what happened, he said, 'You didn't see that coming?'”

Bucky's lips twitched, almost into a smile, but he blinked and bit his bottom lip. He cautiously slid down into a sitting position, still keeping his eyes on Clint but a little less wary than before. The presence of Steve nearby helped steady him, and the enigmatic person who went by the name of Clint was strange enough that he was curious enough to listen.

Clint filled Bucky in on everything that had happened to the team in the last few months. When Bucky started to relax and even asked a question about the team, he started delving deeper into the history of the Avengers. “You'd be better off reading an actual bio of these guys because my memory isn't always the best, but anyway, here's what happened...” Although Clint skirted around the fact that Coulson had been murdered by Loki, saying that the agent had recovered, he kept the rest of the story pretty straight. Half the story had been secondhand when Clint heard it, since he'd been on Loki's side of the struggle, but fortunately Clint had double-checked the information Tony had given him and had confirmed that nobody had been on a strip pole in Central Park.

“How did you join them?” Bucky asked.

“The Avengers?” Clint replied. Bucky nodded. “I broke into the Tower and made a couple margaritas at Tony's private bar. They were good enough that I got to join the team.”

Bucky burst out laughing. Steve turned to look, a smile curving across his lips. Clint looked surprised but grinned back at the dark-haired soldier. “Margaritas?” Bucky choked out, sounding like he could barely breathe.

“Yep. Four of them in a row on the counter and the fifth one in my hand.”

“I can't believe you,” Bucky said with a snort. His laughter had died but he was still smirking slightly. “Margaritas.”

“I can teach you how to make one if you want,” Clint offered.

Bucky cocked his head and stared at Clint, considering this new opportunity. “Okay,” he agreed slowly. “Where?”

“We can look in the kitchen down there, but if you truly want a good time we have to break into Tony's private bar. You up for it?” Clint asked. Bucky nodded and Clint grinned. “JARVIS, let us know if Tony comes out of his lab.” He climbed up into the vent he'd entered through, squawking a muffled curse as his elbow banged against the side. Bucky was about to follow but hesitated to look back at Steve.

“Go have some fun, Bucky,” Steve said, smiling. “I'll be here when you get back.”

Bucky let a swift smile cross his face before he followed Clint into the vents. Although he had to be careful not to let his metal arm bang against the sheet metal, he couldn't help but start to feel like he was having some fun. He noticed that some of the vents had scuff marks and he wondered if Clint usually travelled through the ventilation system. The arrows and marks scrawled on the side with chalk seemed to indicate that he did, although Bucky couldn't read them. In ten or fifteen minutes, Clint stopped above a vent that was in the ceiling of a room and peered through it. He looked back over his shoulder at Bucky and grinned, then pushed on the vent until it gave way.

Bucky waited until Clint had landed on the floor and moved out of the way, then crawled toward the opening. He hung by the edge for a moment before landing lightly on his feet, glancing around to recon the area. Tony's apartment was well-maintained with expensive furnishings, but it almost looked too neat to be an actual living space. Clint was already at the bar, pulling out various bottles and a dozen glasses. “Hey JARVIS, is there some lime juice and salt around?” Clint asked, opening a bottle.

“Who's JARVIS?” Bucky asked.

“He's some kind of program. Let Tony explain him to you, I failed science in high school.”

“There is lime juice in the door of the refrigerator and salt in the cupboard to your left, Mr. Barton,” JARVIS said.

“Thanks,” Clint said, going over to the refrigerator and poking his head inside. “I don't see it. Wait, did you say the door?”

“I did, Mr. Barton.”

“Got it.” Clint waved a bottle of lime juice over his head as if he'd found a priceless treasure and carried it over to the counter. “Hey, can you get the salt?”

Bucky shied away from Clint as he reached up to get the bag of salt sitting on the top shelf but the archer didn't seem to notice. Clint got a bowl and told Bucky how to wet the rims of the glasses in lime juice, then dip them in salt. Clint mixed the tequila, lime juice, and ice in a cocktail shaker. They were both done about the same time, and Clint got a couple ice cube trays out of the freezer. Once the drinks were finished, Clint lined them up and pulled out his phone to take a picture.

“What's that for?” Bucky asked.

“After we clear out, I'll let the team know. There's Sam, Pietro, Wanda, Tony, Natasha, you, me, and your friend Steve. So there's one for each of us and four extras for Tony.”

“Four?” Bucky repeated.

“Yep.” Clint picked up a glass and took a selfie, grinning like a maniac. “That one goes to Nat later. Get yourself a glass and let's get a movie going.”

Bucky took a margarita and followed Clint into the living area. “What did you say earlier about Lord of the Rings?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comics, Clint broke into Avengers Tower to prove he had the abilities to join the team. Because he's Clint, obviously.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve started worrying about Bucky the moment his friend disappeared into the air vents. “JARVIS, update me every minute about what's going on, please,” he said.

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS replied. “May I suggest that Mr. Barnes' choosing to go with a relative stranger is a step in the right direction?”

“Yeah, maybe it is,” Steve agreed. “Okay, JARVIS, drop the surveillance. Just let me know if anything happens.”

“Yes, sir.”

Almost half an hour passed before Steve regretted his decision. “JARVIS?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Mr. Barton and Mr. Barnes have just finished making a dozen margaritas, sir.”

“A dozen?”

“They decided to make some for the rest of the Avengers, sir.”

“Okay.” A pause of four and a half minutes. “Now what?”

“Mr. Barton has put on The Lord of the Rings and is entreating Mr. Barnes to sit down and watch it.”

Steve had turned the television off so he could get to work on the team bios like he'd been assigned, but at this news he put the papers down. “A movie?” he mumbled to himself. He turned to the television and clicked it on, then scrolled down through the list of movies available until he came to 'Lord of the Rings'. “JARVIS, which one is the first one?”

“The Fellowship of the Ring, sir.”

Steve put the movie on and picked his papers back up. “Let me know if anything triggers Buck.”

“Of course, sir.”

In about ten minutes, the papers were laying forgotten on the floor by Steve's feet. He stared at the screen in fascination. No wonder Clint had been pestering him to watch this. Weren't there two more? As the credits rolled up the screen, Steve bent down to pick up the papers he'd left on the floor. “JARVIS, how are things upstairs?”

“Mr. Barton and Mr. Barnes have finished watching their movie and are now returning to your location. I believe they are both intoxicated.”

“Both?” Steve repeated, raising his eyebrows. Ever since he'd come out of Project Rebirth, it had been impossible for him to get drunk. It seemed Bucky hadn't experienced the same side effects.

“Yes, sir.”

“JARVIS, what kind of drunks are Clint and Bucky?”

“I believe the usual term is 'happy drunk', sir.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.” Steve shook his head and got up. It was probably a good thing that Dr. Cho's bed had been left in the room. Although Sam's had been taken back to his room, the extra had stayed in case Dr. Cho had been called back. Picking up his phone, Steve hesitated for a moment with his finger over Natasha's name but decided not to call. Nat probably already knew where Clint was.

A few moments later, two laughing assassins fell onto the rafters from the air vents. Clint seemed barely able to walk straight, but Bucky looked better off. His lopsided grin was still much smaller than anything Steve had seen before the war, but considering the fact that earlier Bucky had been having a panic attack, Steve was willing to count his blessings. Since he doubted Bucky wanted him to coddle him, he organized his papers and pretended he hadn't noticed them come in.

“Hey there, Rogers,” Clint said. “You really have to see Lord of the Rings now that Bucky has.”

“Please, Steve?” Bucky asked with another tiny, smirking grin. He laid on his stomachs, arms crossed, and smiled down at Steve, eyes bluer and brighter than they'd been in decades. “They're really good. And Clint said the books are even better. Do you think Tony could find some for us?”

“I don't think Tony has ever read a book that didn't have to do with science,” Steve said, smiling back, “But I'm sure we could get a copy. Are you two going to stay up there tonight?”

“Guess not,” Bucky said. He waited until Clint had both feet on the floor before jumping down himself.

“Clint, you can take the bed on the right if you want,” Steve said, browsing through his papers.

“Rogers, anyone ever tell you you're a godsend?” Clint asked, words blurring together.

“Only one,” Steve said with a half-smile. “What time do you want to get up in the morning?”

“Whenever there's coffee,” Clint said, already stumbling toward the bed. Bucky helped him stay on his feet long enough that he could collapse into bed without landing on the floor instead. In minutes he was out.

“You going to sleep too, Buck?” Steve asked. Although he pretended to be preoccupied with his work, his hands stilled on the pages as he waited for an answer.

“Nah,” Bucky said. He crossed the room in a few long strides and put his hand on the back of the couch to jump over. The weight of his body landing on the cushion made the springs squeak in protest but he didn't seem to notice.

“You can put your feet up if you want,” Steve offered.

Bucky wriggled around until his knees were bent over the arm of the couch and his left hand was brushing against the carpet. His head rested on Steve's legs. “What have you been doing?” he asked, tilting his head back to look at Steve.

“Working on those team bios,” Steve answered. “I thought it might help you if you knew what the team was like. They're pretty good people. Saved my life a bunch of times.”

“Should've been me hauling you outta the fire,” Bucky murmured. “I said I'd keep an eye on you, but I didn't do too good at it, did I?”

“You did a perfect job, Bucky,” Steve said. “Neither one of us could help what happened. But it's in the past. I'm going to keep you safe now.”

“Nah,” Bucky said, his head tilting to the side. “There's too much gone wrong in my head. I'm not getting better. But I get to stay with you for a while. Running from HYDRA, that's what I was thinking of. Wondering if I could come home to you someday. Never thought I would.”

“Bucky, sit up a minute,” Steve requested. Bucky's boots hit the floor and he was instantly sitting at attention, staring straight ahead. His jaw and fists clenched as he waited. Steve set his papers down on the table and moved over until his side was nearly pressed against Bucky's. The assassin flinched slightly at their proximity but Steve didn't back off. He gently grasped Bucky's shoulders and eased him down until Bucky's head was resting on his lap. The blanket that had ended up on the floor was brought back up and settled across Bucky's body. Steve slumped down against the back of the couch and brought his arm up to lay across Bucky's waist. “You're home, Bucky Barnes,” he said, smoothing down at his friend's dark hair with his free hand. “And you'll never be hurt again.”

Bucky relaxed and let out a long, shuddering breath. He nodded and snuggled into Steve's body heat. They stayed like that long enough that Steve fell asleep, but sometime during the night he woke up to the sound of snoring from the man sprawled across the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't hold off the Stucky snuggles any longer.
> 
> Next chapter coming up tomorrow! The boys work some things out and we get some crack to finish off the chapter. We're just over halfway done with this part of the series!


	9. Chapter 9

It was quiet in the apartment when Bucky woke, and as soon as he realized this he froze. Silence was a precious commodity. HYDRA always forced it to give way to screaming as soon as they saw he was awake. As long as he laid still, he was safe. Later they would punish him for sleeping in, but the few moments of peace was worth the punishment he'd become accustomed to. His body sagged against the couch beneath him, and someone nearby murmured in their sleep.

Bucky sat up, his moment of quiet forgotten in the face of fear. HYDRA never let him sleep on a soft surface, let alone with someone. The sight of Steve temporarily put his brain out of commission, and he stared at the blond for several moments as his mind tried to catch up with the events of the last few months. He'd let his guard down. He'd forgotten again. It was bad to let his guard down. Punishable. The breaths started coming faster in his chest and he could feel his body start to shake. Maybe that's what woke Steve up.

“Bucky?” he asked, blinking in the soft morning light. He stretched and then relaxed with a yawn. “What time is it? You actually fell asleep last night. I'm proud of you.” Steve offered a sleepy, lopsided grin.

“I don't know what time it is,” Bucky admitted. “I'm sorry.” He started to get up to go check.

“Stay here,” Steve asked. It was instinctive, and it probably would have been better to keep quiet, but Bucky settled back into the couch without his cautious expression fading into the inanimate facial mask of the Winter Soldier. “It's okay that you don't know. You don't have to apologize for that.”

“What would you prefer me to apologize for?” Bucky asked, voice stilted and tired. He sounded like he was reading lines to a play for a part he hadn't wanted, and Steve propped himself up on his elbows.

“Nothing,” Steve said, as if it was obvious. “Ever again. It doesn't matter what happens. You never have to apologize to anyone.” He sat up and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Okay?”

“I understand,” Bucky agreed.

Steve reached his hand out. When Bucky didn't stiffen in fear or move away, he set it down on Bucky's metal arm. “Can you look at me?” Bucky obeyed, a childlike obedience in his eyes hidden behind walls of distrust and caution. “It's good that you understand. I'm glad. But I don't want that to be all. I want...” Steve paused, trying to link words together. “I want the things you say and do, and the decisions you make, to be because you want them. Nobody has any power over you, Bucky Barnes. You're a free man. And you can do, or not do, whatever you like. Okay?”

Bucky's brow furrowed and he dropped his gaze to the corner of the coffee table in front of them. Steve kept quiet, letting his friend work things out on his own. Long minutes passed before Bucky looked up, a few bricks knocked from his mental barriers; rays of sunlight peeked through the gaps. “Okay.” He said it as if it was a realization, like he was reading a pardon for his crimes. “It's okay.” Another tiny smile, barely visible, and Steve grinned back. “Coffee?” he suggested.

“Best suggestion I've heard all day,” Steve said, stifling another yawn.

“It's the only suggestion you've heard,” Bucky replied with a snort. He caught himself and glanced back at Steve, unconsciously catching his bottom lip between his teeth. Disrespect was punishable.

“Hey, that was good,” Steve told him with another smile. “You need to speak your mind. Whenever you want. Be sarcastic. God knows you were before the war. Never kept your mouth shut. Especially when I was doing something stupid. Yelled at me as much as my mother did. More, maybe.” He got up, the blanket falling from his shoulders, and made his way into the kitchen. Bucky followed him, rubbing his eyes with his right hand. As Steve measured coffee grounds into the machine, Bucky picked three mugs from the cabinet and set them on the counter.

“Any idea how Clint takes his coffee?” Bucky asked. He cautiously opened the fridge as if he expected a HYDRA team to be hiding inside and peered in.

“Black and strong,” Steve said with a shake of his head. “I don't understand how he gets it down.”

“You take yours with a lot of everything, right?” Bucky managed to find the bottle of creamer and the carton of half-and-half, and made sure the door shut quietly behind him. This wasn't a mission, but noise on a mission was punishable.

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed. “Drives Tony crazy the way the team goes through cream and sugar. Blames it on me.”

“Tony?”

“Stark, also known as 'Iron Man' when he's working with the Avengers. Powerful but can be immature. This is his place we're in. When the press started calling it Avengers Tower the name stuck. Most of us just call it the Tower. He made a floor for each of us. Full suite, with a bathroom and bedroom and all kinds of stuff. Clint's has an archery range.”

Dark brown liquid started dripping into the coffeepot, which started emanating a hissing noise. Bucky backed up and perched on the counter, eyeing it warily. “I promise it won't explode or anything,” Steve said, a tiny smile pulling up the side of his mouth. Bucky snorted and kept his eyes on the pot, but relaxed a little. He was the first to notice Clint joining them.

“Coffee?” the archer asked hopefully. Bucky nodded and Clint groaned in relief. “Mind if I come up there with you?” Bucky only shrugged, but he moved closer to the end of the counter to give Clint room to hop up. Steve could only stare at them a moment before shaking his head and opening the pantry. “What's that look for, Rogers?” Clint asked, words marred by a yawn he made no attempt at hiding.

“You and Bucky seem to be getting along together pretty well, is all,” Steve said, turning to face them with a box of pancake mix in his hands. “He was always making new friends before the war, but you're the first person, besides me, that he's been friendly with since we took down HYDRA.”

“It's my charming personality,” Clint suggested. “Natasha likes it too.”

Steve's eyebrows rose. “Are you two...”

“Fonduing?” Bucky supplied.

Steve nearly dropped the pancake box, he was shaking so hard. Bucky stared at him in mild alarm and surprise. When Steve's laughter finally subsided enough that he could speak, he said, “Seventy years! Seventy years and that's what you remember. Oh my God, now I know I will never hear the end of that.”

“Fonduing?” Clint asked, looking from one super-soldier to the other.

“Ninety-five-year-old virgin,” Bucky clarified, slipping off the counter. He poured some coffee into a mug and handed it to Clint, who eagerly started gulping it. “Back in the forties, he thought fonduing meant a couple was getting it on.”

Clint choked on his coffee and nearly dropped the mug. “He... thought...” Bucky simply nodded, filling his own mug. Steve seemed to give up on the conversation and pulled a skillet from a drawer next to the stove, placing it on top of one of the burners. “Captain America, hero of an entire nation, mixed up sex and chocolate-covered strawberries?”

“I knooow,” Steve grumbled. “Peggy and Stark explained the differences. And don't either of you dare tell Tony,” he added, a slightly panicked look in his eyes. “JARVIS, do not under any circumstances let him access this file.”

“I am not allowed to delete, edit, or refuse Sir access to portions of surveillance footage, Mr. Rogers,” JARVIS said, sounding almost apologetic for an AI.

Bucky decided to deal with the issue in the way he knew best. “Stark, if you tease Steve about this I know eleven ways to kill you in your sleep with my bare hands,” he said coolly, not bothering to take his attention off the sugar he was spooning into his coffee. “Only four are instantaneous.”

“Bucky!” Steve protested. The dark-haired soldier glanced at him with a quizzical yet slightly fearful expression. “We tend not to murder our teammates here in the Tower.”

“What about outside?”

“Buck. No.”

“I thought you said I could do what I want.”

“Within the bounds of the legal system, preferably.”

“'Preferably' I can do.”

“Bucky.”

“Fine, I'll be a law-abiding citizen as long as Stark keeps his mouth shut.”

Steve seemed to think this a suitable compromise, at least for the moment. “Okay,” he agreed, trying not to sigh. “Either of you want to help make breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannnd more crack. I couldn't resist writing some sarcastic Bucky. Next chapter we get Natasha! And a little angst, I'm sorry.


	10. Chapter 10

Once Steve got Bucky past his intentions of murdering Stark, the rest of breakfast went fairly well. Clint raided the fridge for an unimaginable amount of toppings, most of which neither super-soldier had never considered a possible part of breakfast, before moving on to drinks. Bucky dealt with handling the pancakes and skillet, since he was the only one who didn't worry about being burned. Steve got plates and silverware and set the table.

Natasha didn't ask about joining them. The elevator dinged and she walked out, finger already pointed at Clint, who instantly got a look of fear and flung both hands in the air. Bucky skittered across the kitchen, hand grasping the air above his hip where he'd usually have a pistol.

“Could you not panic Bucky, please?” Steve asked. Very few people could look threatening dressed in pajamas and wielding a spatula – all of them were probably in the same room, actually - but he managed.

“Then this idiot,” she said, still pointing at Clint, “should have invited me for pancakes.”

“How did you even know?” Clint asked.

“I asked JARVIS what you boys were up to.” Nat dropped her finger and slipped up onto one of the stools by the counter. “Come back over.” Bucky's body swayed toward her but he stayed where he was. Natasha leaned her elbows on the counter, sloped her shoulder toward him, and kept her gaze on the countertop. “You're safe, Snowman,” she reassured him. “Sit down by me?”

Bucky snorted and rocked back on his heels, eyeing Natasha. Her body language and words told him that she wasn't a threat to him, and he took a cautious step forward. She and Steve both offered him smiles, Natasha still not making eye contact, and he walked the rest of the way. Although he perched on the edge of the counter, ready to flee at a moment's notice, he at least wasn't grasping for a weapon every time somebody moved.

Natasha used as much tact asking for pancakes as she had entering the room. She flipped a butter knife between her fingers and used it to stab through a couple pancakes that she transferred to her plate. Bucky and Steve obviously had no idea how to deal with her, but Clint acted like this was normal. Eventually Nat had enough. “Do not tell me that a woman holding a weapon is freaking you out,” she scolded them. “The two of you are on a team of superheroes that save the world on a regular basis. You are used to this. You are not children, with the possible exception of Clint.” The archer growled out an irritated noise but couldn't speak through his mouthful of pancake.

“Can we wait more than two days before trying to freak Bucky out as much as possible?” Steve asked, setting down his fork.

“Bucky is a functioning adult,” Natasha pointed out. “If he wants me to stop, he can tell me himself. Just because you're panicking, thinking something is going to set him off or drive him away or make him hate you, doesn't mean you have to protect him from every little thing.”

“Maybe you could stop talking about me like I'm not here!” Bucky almost shouted the words, fed up with the situation and tenseness in the room. “I don't know yet. HYDRA fucked me up, plain and simple, and half the time I can't remember my own name. How am I supposed to know what I'm okay with?” Loss of control: punishable. Disrespect: punishable. Emotion: punishable. The memories started coming, making him worse – electric prods, boots against his head, metal and lumber slamming into his body, needles in his skin, his screams making scientists flinch...

“James, you need to settle down,” Natasha told him. “You're starting to fugue.” She stood up and moved to face him. When he flinched away she locked her fingers around his metal wrist and pushed his shoulder until he sat down. “Steve, you need to start talking. Ground him in the here and now.”

“What do I say?” Steve asked, bewildered.

“All of y'all are idiots,” Clint grumbled. He stood up, swatted Nat's hand away and manhandled Bucky over toward the couch. Once he pushed Bucky down into a sitting position, he sat down on the coffee table and put a hand on each of Bucky's knees. “Listen to my voice. Don't think about anything else. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Steve calls you Bucky and he moved heaven and earth to find you in Minnesota. Right now you're in Avengers Tower in New York. It's a safehouse. This entire floor has been set aside for you. Natalia, Steve, and I are the only people here. We're your friends. HYDRA is gone, and so is SHIELD. You are protected from every threat you have faced in the past. None of the people who have hurt you can ever touch you again. You don't have to maim or kill anybody. You have complete free will and safety.” He paused and looked into Bucky's eyes, searching for something.

Bucky stared back but dropped his gaze after just a few seconds. He'd had a wild look in his eyes at first, like he was going to leap for someone's throat with bared teeth, but now he just looked lost and confused. Although he licked his lips and opened his mouth, breath panting through his lips, he said nothing. His head cocked to the side as he tried to remember, brain feeling like it was going to pound through his skull. When he looked back at Clint, recognition sparked in his gaze.

“Well, will you look at that,” Clint said, forcing a smile across his lips. “Looks like Bucky Barnes is back in the house. Glad to get you back.”

“Who did I hurt?” Bucky asked, his gaze losing focus. His voice was hoarse and ragged, yet matter-of-fact; he obviously expected a worst-case-scenario answer. “Did I kill anyone?”

“Nobody's hurt,” Clint reassured him. “And certainly not dead. Do you want to talk to Steve or Nat or me? Or do you want to go to bed? Hundred percent your choice either way. It doesn't matter which.”

“Bed,” mumbled Bucky, eyes refocusing. He stood up mechanically, his usually lithe figure moving stiffly like it was held together with wooden pins at the joints.

Clint walked by his side, guiding him to his bed, and let him lay down. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked. Bucky shook his head and turned over on his back, staring at the ceiling but not looking like he actually saw anything. “Holler if you need me,” Clint said as he walked away. When he got back to the kitchen, he reclaimed his stool and picked up his fork.

“How did you know how to do that?” Steve asked, voice low and heavy.

Clint shrugged and Nat took over. “I have nightmares,” she explained. “Red Room, missions, things like that. Sometimes I would start to fugue, so I taught Clint the basics of how to bring me back from it. Otherwise I'm pretty sure I would have killed one of us a while ago.”

“How long did it take you to recover?”

“Anywhere from a few minutes to the rest of the day. It's always different. Depends on the person, depends on the trigger.” She reached for her glass and took a drink of juice to mask the tightness in her throat. “Takes time to get over it, especially at first. He's going through a lot. I overstepped by a long way. I'm sorry.”

“You should be apologizing to Bucky instead of me,” Steve pointed out.

“I was thinking of leaving that until he had some time to settle down. What would I say if I went over right now? 'Sorry I almost turned you back into the Winter Soldier by being an asshole a few minutes ago, but please accept this flower bouquet and words required by society'? Bucky doesn't need words, heartfelt or not, even though I'd mean every one. He speaks in actions. I'll crash your place for dinner, make something he likes. It'll mean a lot more than the talking that I'm sure he can hear right now.” Nat stepped down from her stool and carried her plate to the sink. “Barnes, you better show up for dinner because we're watching The Two Towers while we eat.”

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed. His voice was thin and unsure, but to Steve it sounded like it had a little bit of something like hope as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I manage to go so quickly from crack to angst, but... Things happen. And I promise that Natasha isn't going to be a villain figure in this fic! I'm working off the comic universe in which Natasha was trained by Bucky in the Red Room, so she's looking to figure out just who came back to Steve and maybe doesn't go about it in the best of ways. Nat is seriously one of my faves though and I would never write her as a causeless villain (although sometimes she's a bit of a devil's advocate for the good of others/the plot).
> 
> Next chapter gives us Chef Natasha and Fanboy Clint, as well as Bucky discovering a new favourite food.


	11. Chapter 11

Bucky spent the rest of the day in bed. Clint wandered around the apartment, poking into different rooms, before settling on the couch to play video games for a few hours. Although Bucky considered joining him, he soon remembered that a desire to socialize was punishable and stayed where he was. Steve was working on paperwork in the kitchen. Occasionally he would ask JARVIS a question. Bucky didn't like the way the AI's voice was disembodied and floated from the air. Personal preference was punishable. He kept his thoughts to himself.

Natasha returned for dinner, true to her word. She hefted several plastic bags onto the kitchen counter and ordered Steve out. He grumbled halfheartedly and relocated to the nearby 'dining room' table. In a few minutes, the smell of meat sizzling on a skillet brought all three men to attention. Bucky was the only one allowed to come close enough to perch on the counter, much to Clint's disappointment. The dark-haired soldier knew the scent well. Kielbasa had become his favourite meat from the first time he'd had it in a Polish safehouse some thirty years ago.

It took almost an hour and a half for Natasha to finish making the food, mostly because she refused to let anyone else help her. Kielbasa wasn't her only talent; she'd also made a pasta dish, a complicated-looking Chinese stir fry, and cheese fries. When Bucky murmured a question in Russian, she nodded and let him select silverware and plates for the table. He passed them off to Clint, who looked like he'd rather have a dead body handed to him but did his best to set them up the right way. Steve hovered as close to the kitchen as he could until Natasha sent him off to get the movie ready.

Once she and Bucky were alone, she turned away from the stove and leaned against the counter, watching him. “I'm sorry, Snowman,” she said quietly. “I'm not good with words, but... I didn't mean to hurt you like that. Can you say you'll forgive me?”

Bucky wasn't sure how to answer. The instinctive response was 'yes', but HYDRA would have told him otherwise. Forgiveness was an emotion. Emotion was punishable. Acknowledging fear or pain was punishable. He hesitated, staring at her as he tried to work out a proper response without breaking the rules of his conditioning.

Natasha approached him slowly, giving him plenty of time to tell her to stay away. He didn't. She took his hands in hers and rubbed her thumbs over his knuckles. “I know it hurts,” she whispered, echoing the words she'd said yesterday. “But it gets better, Snowman.” She stretched up to kiss his cheek. “The Asset was punishable. Your name is Bucky Barnes. You're not HYDRA any more. They can't hurt you.”

Bucky nodded, his lips pursing as he stared at Natasha's fingers intertwined with his. All four hands had so much blood on them, a dark stain that lingered after soap and torture. “I forgive you,” he told her, his gaze flicking up to meet hers for a moment before darting away. Natasha made a humming noise in the back of her throat and he looked back up to find her smiling at him. “What's that for, my little spider?”

“I'm just glad I didn't wreck our friendship.”

“I was the one who shot you. I should be apologizing for that, shouldn't I?” Bucky wasn't really sure what merited an apology and what didn't. Steve had said he didn't need to apologize for anything he'd done as the Winter Soldier, but he was fairly certain that nearly murdering someone was an exception.

“Of course not, Snowman,” Natasha said. “Normally I would say yes, but you didn't mean to. And I'd say it hurt you as much as it did me.”

Bucky knew exactly what she was talking about. The night terrors, the memories, the horror that had brought his food back up from his stomach – he had suffered from shooting Natalia when he finally remembered doing it. “So are you going to apologize to me?” he asked, gaze meeting hers. There was a smirking challenge hidden there that she smiled to see.

“Only if you ask nicely, Snowman,” she teased.

Bucky's lips twitched toward a smile. He leaned forward and planted his lips on her cheekbone for a moment before pulling away. “Thank you,” he said.

“Ready to eat?” she asked, removing her hands from his.

Bucky nodded and slid off the counter. “I'll carry the pot over,” he offered. “You'll burn yourself.” What he really meant was, I don't want you to burn yourself, but it would probably be months before he automatically said what he meant.

“Could you? Thanks,” Natasha said, picking up the large plastic bowl holding the stir fry. Bucky took the pot and walked right behind her. Steve noticed them, he knew, but Clint seemed preoccupied with trying to figure out which side of the plate the napkin went on. “Hey, Cap, we're ready to eat. Get the fries out of the kitchen on your way over.”

“This looks like the international cafeteria at SHIELD,” Clint said, eyeing the stir fry suspiciously. “What kind of meat is in there?”

“Cat,” Natasha replied smoothly. Bucky snorted and reached for the pitcher of root beer someone had put on the table. Steve made a strangled coughing sound and Clint's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“Proper carnie food,” Clint said sarcastically, poking at one of the strips of meat with his fork. He managed to get a tine into it and transferred it to his mouth. “Nah, this isn't cat,” he decided. “Beef?”

“Of course,” Natasha said. “And don't eat out of the serving bowl.” She picked up the serving utensil laying next to the stir fry bowl and used it to put a portion onto her plate. “This is how civilized people eat, Barton.”

“You know I have a first name, right?” Clint asked.

“I know your middle name, too,” Nat said, staring at him.

Clint watched her for a moment, trying to decipher how she meant that, and nodded slowly. “Hey, Nat. Can I borrow that serving spoon, please?”

Natasha handed it over with a pleasant smile. “Of course, Clint.” Steve was going for the pasta and Bucky had already gotten half his plate full of kielbasa. “Bucky, try to eat something besides the meat if you have room.”

“What are these?” Bucky answered, picking a couple fries up with a pair of tongs.

“Cheese fries,” Clint announced. “God's gift to mankind. Really unhealthy but they taste great. Try a dozen.”

Bucky cautiously took a couple fries between his fingers and lowered them into his mouth like he was eating a worm. “These are amazing,” he said, staring at Nat in awe. “How do you make these?”

“I'll tell you after we eat,” Natasha promised. Steve and Bucky cleaned out the kielbasa dish, and Clint had taken a liking to the not-really-cat stir fry, so there wasn't much to clean up besides the small remains of the pasta. Clint and Bucky got into a staring match over the last of the cheese fries, one that Clint was rapidly regretting, when Natasha hauled Bucky into the kitchen to show him how to make his own.

“Hey, Steve, you got that movie going?” Nat asked, coming out of the kitchen with Bucky in tow. Clint stared enviously at the bowl of cheese fries the super-soldier was holding but instantly found something else to look at when Bucky glanced at him.

“Give me a second,” Steve said, collecting the papers he'd left scattered across the couch. He got them into a messy but containable pile and left them on his bed. Clint had taken over the job of Chief Television Wrangler and the other three piled onto the couch. Bucky leaned against Steve, his feet stretching across Natasha's lap. Clint sat on her other side, one arm around her shoulders and the fingers of his free hand tapping against the leather couch arm.

“Ready?” Nat asked. All three nodded and she turned on the movie. JARVIS dimmed the lights and adjusted the bass on the TV speakers without being asked. They stopped the movie a dozen times, since whenever Steve had a question he tended to blurt it out. Bucky never initiated things but occasionally added a question of his own. Clint answered every one, sometimes asking JARVIS for help but usually getting it right on his own. With all the interruptions for questions and bathroom and snack breaks, it took them almost five hours to finish the movie, but none of them seemed to mind.

“Night, boys,” Nat said. Clint followed her to the elevator and she pulled him inside before the doors closed, leaving Bucky and Steve on their own. She waved goodbye to them and Steve waved back.

“You can stay up if you want, Buck, but I'm ready for bed,” Steve said. “See you in the morning.”

It was hours later before Bucky got to bed himself – he thought the sky might have started to lighten an infinitesimal amount – but he fell asleep almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avengers family dinner and movie night. You should be thankful nobody set anything on fire, really. Just another little chapter of character development and a little bit of almost-fluff.
> 
> Next chapter we get Sam back! Because let's face it, Nat and Clint have a better idea of how to handle Bucky than Steve does and Cap needs to talk things out with someone who's a few decades younger. The Man With A Plan doesn't have a plan any more but Sam might be able to help out.
> 
> And can I apologize in advance for chapter thirteen? I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry ahh I promise I mean well for everyone.


	12. Chapter 12

Steve was relieved at Bucky's recovery. He hadn't heard what had passed between him and Natasha, but they seemed to have settled things enough that Bucky had sat next to her on the couch during the movie. Clint was close friends with Nat, and seemed well on his way to being the same to Bucky, and Steve hoped that if things went downhill between the two assassins again Clint would be able to help sort things out.

Bucky had probably been up half the night after their movie, but Steve knew that asking him about it wouldn't help anything. His Bucky had always been stubborn and independent. Although HYDRA had probably tried to take out everything that made Bucky a human being, Steve was willing to bet that Bucky was still there. Otherwise he'd have nothing in this world. The Avengers were a team, a family, but he'd take Bucky over the bunch of them.

Steve woke at dawn and managed to get out of the room without waking up Bucky. JARVIS had kept his voice down and had muted the normal noises of the elevator. Once he was in the elevator he asked JARVIS if anyone else was awake and the AI answered the Sam had just woken up.

“Ask if he wants to go for a run,” Steve requested.

“Mr. Wilson says that he would be happy to accompany you as long as you don't cross the state line,” JARVIS replied.

A smile twitched at Steve's lips but didn't form all the way. “Tell Sam I'll meet him in the lobby.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sam instantly knew that Steve didn't want to talk. They went to a nearby park, and although Sam stopped to stretch, Steve started running right away. By now Sam knew better than to try to keep up with him, so he went at his own pace and occasionally looked around to see what area of the park Steve was in. After twenty minutes or so, Steve caught up to Sam yet again, but this time he slowed down enough to keep pace with his friend.

“You wanna talk?” Sam asked, slowing to a walk.

Steve dropped to the same pace. “Not really,” he answered. A few minutes passed in silence. “I'm worried about Bucky.”

“Obviously,” Sam said. “The guy almost went Winter Soldier on you yesterday.”

“If it wasn't for Clint, I don't know what would have happened,” Steve confessed. “What if it happens again while he's on his own, or with somebody who doesn't know how to calm him back down? I can't ask the team to go out of their way to keep an eye on a man most of them haven't even met yet.”

“Well, all they know about Bucky is what they've read in your file,” Sam agreed. “And what they saw from the HYDRA/SHIELD Incident when he tried to murder you. That's not exactly a shining start. Instead of James Barnes, they've met the Winter Soldier. The assassin rather than the friend.”

“That's not who he is any more. I don't think any of us really know. We're not enemies, but we're not friends like we used to be. I know he needs time and space, but I've gotta admit that when he came to me I thought he remembered.”

“Remembered what? If you wanna say.”

“Us. Anything that wasn't painful. Things before HYDRA took him from me.” Steve detoured to a bench and sat down, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Sam, what if he's gone for good? I thought I could bring him back, help him find himself again. What if HYDRA murdered him and it's just his body that I got back?”

“That's kind of dark, man,” Sam said. “But he came to you on his own, and he knows you. If he was just HYDRA's puppet, with none of the old Barnes left inside, do you really think he would have done that?”

“He was a spy. A ghost story. For seventy years. Tortured and broken and... What if he's just playing?”

“Steve, didn't you think of all this before you went off on a wild chase for him?”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted.

“You were willing to chase cold leads across an entire damn planet, but now that you have him you're second-guessing yourself? Tell me that adds up. Now that you have him, you're more at risk of losing him than ever, if you ask me. Give him time and space and love, and he'll come around to you if he can. Just gotta let him take the lead when it comes to the personal stuff or touchy subjects.”

Steve looked up, still seeming rather hopeless but with an undercurrent of understanding. “Yeah. I guess I'm just really afraid that I'm going to mess this up. He was everything for me when we were kids but now I don't know how to repay him.”

“Are you gonna be there for him 24/7?” Sam asked. “Tell him it's okay to scream and cry and have nightmares? Let him know it's okay to be broken as long as he wants to heal? Wake him up from his bad dreams and make the Tower a safe place? Get the short stick when it comes to sleeping and peace? Keep him safe and healthy?”

“Till the end of the line,” Steve promised, carding his hand through his hair.

“Then I don't know what else Barnes could ask for. Sounds like you're ready and willing to do a pretty good job of repaying. And you don't have to spell it all out to him. You just gotta be there and let him know it's okay to come to you whenever he wants.”

“Thanks, Sam. I don't know what I'd do without you. Helping to find Bucky, talking to you. Couldn't go over this stuff with a standard-issue SHIELD therapist.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't recommend that,” Sam answered, smirking. “He probably doesn't want to talk to me, but ask him if it's okay if I drop by sometime next week. I wanna give him time to adjust and settle in but I also want to talk to him before too much time goes by.” Catching Steve's body language, he added, “I'm not gonna grill him. Just wanna see what he's like. When he was trying to murder me, and on the ride back here, he wasn't exactly vocal.”

“Sure, I'll ask him,” Steve agreed. “Thanks, Sam. I'm gonna head back. He's probably up by now.”

“I'm going to Starbucks. Want something?”

“Yeah. Two of whatever looks good on the menu.” Steve dug into his pocket and withdrew a couple folded bills. “Leave the change.”

“You got it,” Sam said. He waved goodbye as Steve started back toward the Tower.

“JARVIS, let Bucky know I'm coming back up,” Steve said.

“Mr. Barnes is not in his quarters, Mr. Rogers,” the AI replied.

“Where is he?” Steve demanded.

“He went with Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanoff to the training floor. It was Mr. Barton's idea that they do some sparring, and Ms. Romanoff insisted on going along.”

“How is he doing?” Steve asked.

“Mr. Barnes is handling himself well both physically and mentally. I suggested that his and Ms. Romanoff's sparring session end within the next ten minutes to avoid emotional compromise. Ms. Romanoff promised to have him back on this floor within half an hour.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.” Steve left the elevator and decided to go back to working on the team bios he'd started. He only had a few more hours' solid work, thanks to JARVIS having assembled all the files for him. Most of Steve's work was smoothing over details that could trigger Bucky and choosing a few parts to leave out entirely.

The floor was suitably quiet until all three assassins dropped out of the vent and onto the kitchen counter. All semblance of peace was instantly banished, as all three were debating some point or other. Natasha and Bucky frequently slipped into Russian, at which point Clint would retaliate by saying something in sign language, which would bring the conversation back to English.

“Oh, hey, Steve,” Clint said, hopping down to get a glass out of the cabinet.

“Sounds like you guys had fun,” Steve replied.

“Snowman did well,” Natasha promised. “Nobody went into fugue or got injured. Couple bruises but we'll be fine.”

Talk of training gave way to talk of food, and Steve sighed as he realized it would probably be best if he supervised things. Clint grinned way too maniacally at the prospect of building a house of cards with Pop Tarts, Bucky didn't know his way around the kitchen, and Nat was likely to just sit and watch Clint do something that was about to blow up in his face. Surprisingly, the only casualties were a couple pastries that fell on the floor. Since Clint and Natasha were pulled from the Tower to help Fury on a mission, purpose undisclosed, and Steve wanted to finish his work, Bucky apparently decided it would be a good idea to do absolutely nothing. It was only when Steve got suspicious at the lack of noise in the suite that he realized Bucky was sitting on his bed, staring at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Sam! I'm not claiming to be a psychiatrist or anything, so we'll see if Sam's actually being helpful or not somewhere down the line. And I seem to have a bit of a habit of ending on cliffhangers, for which I apologize.
> 
> Next chapter is gonna hurt like hell, and all I can say is... I don't know what I can say. Bring the tissues.


	13. Chapter 13

Bucky heard his name, the one he hadn't been allowed to remember for almost sixty years, and returned to consciousness. He hadn't actually realized he'd been watching anyone but he could tell from Steve's body language that he'd been staring in the blond's direction for some time. When he retreated into himself, hiding behind the walls he'd built to keep out the pain and horror, he never noticed what his eyes landed on.

 

“Bucky?” Steve asked. “Is something wrong?”

 

Bucky blinked slowly, keeping his eyes shut for several moments before opening them. _Is something wrong?_ Pierce hissed in his ear, ignoring the way Bucky's body spasmed as he laid half naked on the concrete. The electric impulse had made his arm useless, and he could smell his own burned skin even though he couldn't yet feel anything. The serum would heal his body overnight, literally, but it wasn't his body that Pierce wanted to injure. _What's your name?_ Pierce demanded, nodding to a nearby HYDRA agent. Rollins flicked his wrist to activate the electric prod in his hand. _Are you the Asset or Bucky?_

 

“Bucky?” Steve asked. “Bucky!”

 

Bucky gasped for breath as he was ripped out of the past. He bent over, arms wrapped around his middle and screamed through tightly clenched teeth. Without him fully in control of it, his body toppled over the edge of the bed and fell to the floor. Steve was yelling at JARVIS as he tried to lift Bucky off the floor, but the dark-haired soldier wasn't responding.

 

 

He woke up three hours later inside a padded room, with a square of glass in one wall that he couldn't see through. Fear spiked inside his chest, painful as a knife shoving through his skin. Coolness and heat took turns washing across his skin, making him dizzy and nauseous. The heartbeat slamming in his ears doubled in speed, maybe tripled, but he couldn't seem to find enough air to breath. When he tried to move he found his feet and hands were strapped down onto the bed.

 

Bucky screamed. Everything that he couldn't say, he put into a loud, wordless cry of horror. Steve had lied to him. This wasn't a safehouse, it was a hellhole. HYDRA agents were laughing at his weaknesses. Handlers were manhandling him into the Chair or into cryofreeze. “Put him on ice.” “Mission report.” Hurt. Confusion. Electricity. Fear. Emotion. Punishable. Punishable. Punishable. “Wipe him, and start over.” “Kill her.” “You have your orders.” Faster. Stronger. More fearful.

 

“But I knew him,” Bucky sobbed, barely able to hear his own voice above the pounding in his head. In the distance somebody was yelling; it sounded like their voice was coming from behind the glass in the wall. He turned his head away from it. They would punish him more for crying. Maybe this time they'd finally kill him off. Glass broke and he whipped his head back toward the wall, terror evident in every line of his body. His hands clenched uselessly as his choked breaths rattled in his chest.

 

“I'm here, I'm sorry, my God, Bucky.” Steve's face hovered over him for a moment, and the dark-haired soldier could feel fingers picking at the leather cuffs around his flesh wrist, but Bucky was too afraid to speak. Steve was here to save him. This was how he'd been rescued the first time, this was how he'd hallucinated it when HYDRA had reclaimed him, this was what had earned him three days without food or water when he spoke about it.

 

In his hallucinations, Steve had never actually freed him. His face had morphed into one of his handlers' or he'd simply told Bucky he wasn't good enough and walked away. This time, the blond was pulling him off the bed, supporting his weight, crying as he tried to offer brokenly worded apologies. This was a test. Bucky wrenched away from Steve and set his metal arm at an angle that would give him the best trajectory and force to put Steve down. “Leave me the fuck alone!” he screamed. “You've been haunting me ever since they first put me in ice. Why couldn't you save me like you could the first time? Don't pretend you've started caring now. Get away from me!” Instead of obeying, Steve was approaching him, weaponless, his hands spread out to show he wasn't a threat. Bucky lunged for him but his strength gave out and he ended up falling into Steve's arms.

 

The impact nearly sent them both to the floor. Steve was still crying, still trying to apologize, and Bucky couldn't take it. He wrapped handfuls of Steve's shirt through his fingers and sobbed into the fabric. Even though the room around them would have been uncomfortable under the best of circumstances, Bucky didn't even notice it. No words or senses were left to him, just a raw, aching grief. He didn't want to know or understand. He wanted it to stop hurting.

 

Steve held Bucky in his arms and let his friend cry out his pain. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he whispered. He knew his words were inadequate but he could think of nothing else to say. Despite his promises that the Tower was a safe zone, Bucky had come out of fugue to find himself tied down in a padded cell. “My God, Bucky, forgive me.” He held his friend more tightly, wishing he could erase the pain and shock of Bucky's awakening.

 

 

Bucky hadn't responded to Steve for a long time when the assassin had first collapsed. When he finally surfaced enough to be cognizant of his current surroundings, he'd been too confused and emotional to listen. He'd lashed out at Steve, knocking the blond halfway across the room. Steve had hit the wall headfirst and had slumped to the floor without moving. JARVIS had sent out a Tower-wide red alert and the team had assembled in Steve's apartment in seconds. Natasha had had one of her EMP tabs on her belt and had taken his metal arm out of commission; when Bucky had tried to rush them in a frantic escape attempt he failed.

 

Tony had pulled rank over them and put Bucky in one of the padded rooms he'd had included in the Tower renovations. Nobody had actually expected the rooms to ever be used, but after Clint's episode under Loki's control, they had universally agreed that it was a good just-in-case measure to take. Whether they should actually use it had meant a difference of opinion. In the end, Bucky went into the padded room.

 

Steve had been unconscious until about an hour ago. He'd woken as disoriented as Bucky had been coming out of fugue but had recovered in a much better way. It had taken only a few minutes for him to convince the team that he was operating at full capacity and didn't have any lingering effects. Once he'd convinced them that he wasn't about to faint or fugue, his first question had been about Bucky. None of them had wanted to answer. Clint was the one who'd eventually shared their secret.

 

Steve had nearly gotten himself knocked unconscious again. He'd lunged for Tony's throat in a fit of anger, but Tony had yelled for a suit and gone out the window. Once the rest of the team had convinced Steve not to murder anyone for what they'd done to Bucky, Tony had come back inside. Steve had demanded to be taken to where they were holding Bucky, and Tony had led the way to the observation room overlooking the padded cell.

 

Steve had started demanding that they release Bucky. Tony had refused to do anything until Bucky was awake and able to promise them that he wasn't going to attack any of them. Their argument had rapidly deteriorated into a shouting match, and the rest of the Avengers team had simply stood back waiting for them to figure things out. Steve had his shield but Tony was still wearing his armour, so nobody was particularly worried about either of them killing each other.

 

Then Bucky had started screaming. Steve had nearly fallen in shock. “Let me in there,” he'd demanded. Tony had only shaken his head, so Steve went through the window, shield-first. He'd dropped his weapon as soon as he was through and had started undoing the leather cuffs around his friend's limbs. The rest of the team had held Tony back, knowing that even Steve could be pushed far beyond his limits. Once they'd established that Bucky wasn't a threat to anyone, Clint and Natasha had forced everyone out of the room under pain of death.

 

 

Now, Bucky cried in Steve's arms for what seemed like hours. Finally there were no more tears left for him to cry, and he simply stood there. Nat and Clint hadn't left the observation room, choosing to give the two super-soldiers their space, and the rest of the team had left a long time ago. Steve gently pulled Bucky into a corner of the room and eased down into a sitting position. Bucky sat on the floor, but with his legs across Steve's he was almost in the blond's lap. His right hand still held tightly to Steve's shirt, and his forehead rested against Steve's shoulder. A longer period of time passed, still indeterminate.

 

“Stevie, I wanna go home,” Bucky whimpered. His voice was barely audible, but Steve didn't need to hear the words to understand the meaning.

 

Steve stood up and held out his hand for Bucky. “It's okay, Buck,” he said softly. He put Bucky's right arm over his shoulder, wrapping his fingers around Bucky's wrist, and put his left arm around Bucky's waist. “I've got you. You're okay.”

 

Clint left to make sure the hallways between the padded cell and Steve's floor were clear. Rather than going to the floor that they'd commandeered when Bucky had been flown into the Tower in critical condition, Steve was taking him to the floor that actually belonged to Steve. Natasha walked a dozen yards behind them, making sure nobody surprised them from the rear. They somehow managed to make it to Steve's floor without trouble, and Clint and Natasha left them alone.

  
Steve had expected Bucky to be suspicious of the new rooms, but he didn't even seem to notice. His eyes were dull and Steve was nearly carrying his weight. When they got into the bedroom, Steve was thankful for Tony's insistence that every floor had a king-sized bed in it. Otherwise the two of them would never have fit together. He put Bucky down on the bed and climbed in next to him. Moving cautiously, hoping he wouldn't trigger Bucky again, he draped one arm across Bucky's waist and moved forward until Bucky's back was against his chest. Between the covers and their own body heat, they were more than warm enough. Bucky relaxed into Steve's embrace, too emotionally ruined to protest even if he'd wanted to.

 

“I'll be here when you wake up,” Steve promised him. “Till the end of the line.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO, SO, SO, SORRY. If it makes you feel any better, I almost cried writing this chapter. Only two more chapters until this part of the series ends, and then a brief epilogue after that. Thanks to everyone who's read, commented, and given kudos!
> 
> Next chapter we get a look at Tony, more sarcastic Bucky, and a bit of fluff. Hopefully it starts to make up for what I put you through with this chapter.


	14. Chapter 14 [Part One]

Steve wasn't surprised to find Bucky gone when he woke up. Although he'd been expecting it, he couldn't help but reach across the bed to make sure it was really empty. Bucky wasn't there. He got out of bed and shuffled toward the door. As his hand was about to close on the doorknob he realized the radio was playing in the kitchen.

Bucky was suspiciously poking at one of the knobs on the radio, trying to find a station that interested him. He seemed to settle on one that was playing pop hits and turned back to the counter. “Hey, JARVIS, is Steve up?” he asked, turning away from Steve to reach for a skillet on the stove.

“He is, Mr. Barnes. Currently he is standing in the doorway of the bedroom.”

Bucky turned around, a skillet in his hand. “Am I in trouble, Captain?” he asked with a smirk. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to get some plates from the cupboard. “Thought I'd make some breakfast. Can't remember what you like to eat but JARVIS made a few suggestions.” The skillet, Steve now noticed, had several fried eggs in it. Bucky put two on each plate and set them on the counter. “Eat those while they're still hot, Stevie.”

Steve walked across the floor to the counter. “Buck... This is... Wow.”

“What, did you think I ran off to murder people?” Bucky scraped cubed melon off a cutting board into a bowl filled with several other kinds of fruit. “JARVIS, when's the toast gonna be ready?”

“Any minute, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky put the fruit bowl down and opened the oven door. “Looks good to me,” he decided. He reached in with his metal arm and picked up the tray. “I put the first couple pieces in the toaster but when they popped up I just about stabbed the thing,” he confided to Steve. “JARVIS suggested putting it in the oven. Are you going to eat or not?”

Steve had sat down on one of the stools by the counter but hadn't moved to eat. “What's all this for?” he asked. “Usually whenever you brought home a bunch of food you were trying to keep me from being mad at you for something.”

“I'm not trying to keep you from being mad,” Bucky protested. “But I want to do something. And I thought you might take to it better if you had a full stomach.”

“What's wrong?” Steve asked.

“I won't say a word until you eat your eggs,” Bucky threatened.

Steve considered a staring contest but knew from experience that Bucky was more stubborn than all the rest of the Howling Commandos put together. He picked up the fork laying next to his plate and started eating. “This is actually really good,” he said. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“Hell if I remember,” Bucky said with a shrug. “And don't talk with your mouth full. I know your mother tried to teach you manners.”

“You're going to eat too, right?” Steve asked.

“Knew I was forgetting something,” Bucky said. He brought the tray of toast over with his plate and set both down on the counter.

“So how did you do all this?” Steve asked. He let Bucky ramble about his preparations, marvelling at how much his friend was talking. This morning probably held more words than the last four days put together. When the conversation died down, Steve reached for the fruit bowl. “About this idea you had,” he mentioned as he spooned out pieces of fruit. “What is it?”

“I was thinking Tony should take a look at my arm.”

“No,” Steve protested, the word coming from his lips before he'd even finished processing Bucky's sentence. “It was his fault you came out of fugue in a padded cell.”

“Yeah, JARVIS showed me the footage from what happened. And it explains why my arm has been off this morning. Natalia really has no respect. Plus, I'm pretty sure there's still a HYDRA tracker buried in here somewhere.” Bucky tapped his metal bicep with his fork. “I know that you said the Tower is impenetrable but I don't want it to stay in there. Eventually I'm going to leave the Tower for some reason or other, since I'm not planning on being a hermit for the rest of my life, and I don't want them knowing where I go.”

“But Tony...”

“Steve, come on. Remember the helicarrier? I shot you. And that wasn't the first time I tried to kill you, either. Tony's had your back since you joined the Avengers. What he did to me was for both of us. He didn't know if I would come out of fugue stable or not, and I'd already put you out. It was sensible.”

“I don't have to like it,” Steve said, “but I get the feeling you'll do it with or without my approval.”

“Of course,” Bucky agreed. “Although... I'd like it if you could come with me.”

“Where?”

“Down to Tony's lab. He's not going to relocate his entire setup up here for an hour or two.”

“Are you sure it's not going to...”

“Trigger me? Not really. But I think if you stick with me it'll help. It's not like he's going to chain me to a chair or anything.” A shudder rippled across his skin and Steve reached across the counter to take Bucky's metal hand in his.

“Of course not,” Steve reassured him. “He'll go slow and quiet. I'll be there to keep an eye on him. JARVIS, can you ask Tony when he'll be available?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

“Do you want to watch that last Lord of the Rings movie tonight?” Bucky asked, using his fork to get a grape out of the fruit bowl.

“I'd love to,” Steve replied. “What do you think is going to happen?”

Their discussion of Middle-Earth was broken into several minutes later by JARVIS' voice. “Mr. Stark says he is at your disposal today.”

“Let's do it now, then,” Bucky suggested. “Get it over with. JARVIS, let Nat and Clint know but don't let them in the lab. I don't need an audience. But what the hell, invite the whole team to watch if you think they'd want to.”

“You sure?” Steve murmured.

“Steve, I'm getting repairs done, not having a baby. Tony's not going to ask me to strip naked so he can look at my shoulder.”

“Actually, with Tony, you never know,” Steve admitted.

“Not helping.”

The elevator ride down to Tony's lab didn't take long. Surprisingly nothing was on fire, and Bucky wandered in full of curiosity. From somewhere under a pile of machinery and papers, Tony yelled at them not to touch anything. Bucky rolled his eyes but kept his hands to himself.

“All right, what do we have?” Tony asked. “What's up with your arm?”

“It's responding sluggishly and some of the plates here are sticking.” Bucky traced a small blackened spot on his forearm with his finger. “That's where Nat's EMP tab landed, so it's the damage epicenter. And HYDRA had at least one tracking device in it. Explosives possible but unlikely. They would have used them to take me out after HYDRA was destroyed and I went rogue.”

“That's a comforting thought,” Tony said dryly. “Dum-E can you get the CTX in here for a scan?”

“What's that?” Bucky asked.

“Explosives scanner. Actually... Dum-E, get the Sabre 5000 instead.”

“What's the difference?” Steve asked.

“The CTX is the tunnel-looking thing you get at airports. Sabre is handheld.” Dum-E returned with a box holding a device that was about the size and shape of a handheld vacuum cleaner. “Let me know if this starts freaking you out or something, okay?” Tony switched it on and started scanning Bucky's arm. “Looks like we've got something here, where the casing swells out to simulate a bicep. Good place to put it. We'll have to open up the arm to get it out, though.”

“The panels open outward from the inside of the arm,” Bucky explained. “You should be able to pry it open with a screwdriver or something. I don't remember how HYDRA did it. Usually I tried not to look.”

“Just tell me if anything feels off,” Tony said. “Come on, let's get you to sit down somewhere so we're not all standing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you forgiven me for yesterday yet? This chapter kind of helps to make up for it, I hope. Next chapter is a continuation. After that it's just a short epilogue and we conclude this part of the story!


	15. Chapter 14 [Part Two]

“I'm fine standing,” Bucky said quickly, stepping back from the chair Tony was indicating. He could feel a chill spreading across his skin, starting between his shoulderblades.

“You might be, but we mortals prefer to sit down. It'll be fine.”

“Tony,” Steve warned.

“How about a couch?” Bucky cut in. “That might work.”

“What's the difference between a couch and a chair?” Tony asked, exasperated.

“HYDRA's mind wipe,” Steve said slowly. “That's why you don't want a chair.” Bucky nodded.

“I'm being left out of something,” Tony reminded them.

“Whenever HYDRA wiped me, they put me in a chair and held me down,” Bucky explained. “It... It hurt.” His voice broke on the last word and Steve put his arm around Bucky's shoulders.

“It's okay,” Steve reassured him. “You're safe. HYDRA's gone. We're here to help and protect you.”

“JARVIS, pull up a picture of a beanbag,” Tony ordered. “What about that, Barnes?” Bucky studied the image for a few moments, then nodded. “JARVIS, get me three bean bags in here stat.”

Iron Legion suits brought in the bean bags within a few minutes. Tony had stayed busy in the meantime, pulling up whatever he could from his database about Bucky's arm. “These Nazi bastards did a real job on you,” he muttered.

Bucky snorted. “You're telling me that?”

“Point taken. All right, Barnes, sit yourself down and let me know if this is going to work.” Tony wandered off, yelling for Dum-E and JARVIS to find him various tools.

Bucky prodded the closest bean bag with his foot. When nothing tried to shoot him, bite him, or set him on fire, he cautiously sat down and crossed his legs beneath him. Steve watched closely, half amused and half protective. “What's the smirk for, Rogers?” Bucky groused.

“You remind me of some of the kids the Avengers visited on a PR run,” Steve answered. “With the bean bag and the grumpy look and everything.”

“I'm not grumpy,” Bucky protested.

Tony came back at this point. “Can you handle that?” he asked, sounding a little more considerate than before. Bucky nodded. “All right. Let me know if anything hurts or starts setting you off.” He picked up a tool from the tray Dum-E had brought over and started working.

It took half an hour for Tony to get the right panels open. He was moving slowly since he had no experience with the arm, or any idea what to expect. “Seems like they used C4. Makes sense, since it's one of the more stable explosives. You could microwave this stuff and it wouldn't go off. We should be able to get it out safely.”

“Then what?” Steve asked.

“We could make some fireworks,” Tony suggested. “Cap, I'm gonna have to keep both eyes on the prize here, so it's your job to make sure you notice if Bucky fugues without saying anything.”

An hour later, a block of explosives half the size of Steve's fist was sitting on the table. “Dum-E, get this in a container so we don't have to worry about somebody setting it off,” Stark said. The robot picked up the block and wheeled away. “Hard part's over. Time for a drink.”

“Tony, you're not working on him drunk,” Steve protested.

“Root beer?” Tony asked. “I've got just about everything in the fridge.” Steve and Bucky settled on Dr. Pepper instead. “Traitors,” Tony mumbled. “Let's break for fifteen minutes. Sound good? I'm gonna take a look at some of the files I dug up to get a better idea of how they fixed you up in the past. Feel free to do anything except touch something. JARVIS, keep an eye on them.”

Half an hour later, Tony was back at work. Between the files from HYDRA and a few hazy memories from Bucky, he had a fairly good idea of what to do. Although it took almost two hours, by the time he was finished Bucky declared that his arm was back to being fully functional.

“Couldn't have done it without you, Stark,” he admitted. “Thanks.”

“Any time, Robocop. Let me know if I can poke around again. I understand it's a sensitive subject but of course I'm known for being insensitive.”

“Says the guy who flew in beanbags for someone who tried to murder half his team yesterday,” Bucky retorted. “You're not all bad, Stark.”

“Not all bad? That's an improvement. Can I quote you on that to Pepper?”

“If you have to,” Bucky said. “See you later, Stark.”

“See you,” Stark echoed.

“What do you want for dinner?” Steve asked as they waited for the elevator.

“Whatever we got in the house. I'm not too picky as long as we get to watch Return of the King. Thai, maybe?”

A couple hours later, Clint, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky were bickering over a Thai takeout menu. They finally settled on a wide selection. Bucky simply asked for one of everything and trusted Clint and Cap would deal with whatever he didn't finish. When the food arrived, Clint and Natasha went down to get it, leaving Steve to turn on the television and Bucky to get drinks. It took another half hour for everyone to get settled with their food (Clint kept trying to steal Natasha's despite the fact that she'd threatened to chopstick him).

“Sit down and watch the movie,” Bucky grumbled. “I'm an old man with a bedtime.” Natasha laughed, giving Clint a chance to steal one of her rolls. To keep war from erupting, Bucky grabbed Clint and pushed him to the far end of the couch, then sat between him and Natasha. Steve took the chair to their left, having finished most of his meal while the others were pestering each other. As soon as he turned the movie on the other three fell quiet.

After it was finished Bucky collected the various cartons and bottles and pushed them all into the trash. “Thanks, Nat,” he said, giving her a quick hug. She looked surprised but smiled. “You too, Clint. Don't get yourself stabbed in the night.”

“Nat? She usually bites instead, actually, but I'll keep that in mind.” Natasha stomped hard on his foot and he grunted in pain before shoving her off.

“Good night, you two,” Steve said with a grin. “Don't worry, Bucky, they always act like that.”

“I worked with Nat for almost a year,” Bucky reminded him. “She hasn't changed much if she still bites people.”

Steve chuckled. “Anyway, do you wanna stay with me again tonight or take the spare room? Tony ordered some stuff in and had your things moved in there, but you're free to do whatever you want.”

“I'd like to stay with you, if you don't mind,” Bucky said. He was stretching his metal arm, testing to see if it had held up after a few hours of use.

“Of course,” Steve said. “I'm going to take a shower, okay?”

“No problem.”

By the time Bucky was done with his bath – his metal arm made showers impractical – Steve was almost asleep. He'd left more than enough room for Bucky on the bed but the dark-haired soldier snuggled against him. Steve's arm came up over his waist and Bucky weaved his fingers through Steve's. He was at full functioning capacity. Steve was here for him. Happiness was an emotion, which was punishable in an Asset. He was James Barnes. The Asset had faded away under free will and kind words. Bucky was free of him. He curled into Cap's embrace and let his eyes flicker close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Tony! Once I post the epilogue tomorrow, this part of the series will be done and I'll be on a brief hiatus before starting the next section. Shouldn't be long, maybe a week or so, just to read over what I've written so far and check for continuity errors and such. Also I'm kind of expecting the government to show up at my door because I ran about a dozen Google searches about explosives when I was writing this chapter. If the updates mysteriously stop, you know why.


	16. Epilogue

Bucky woke at peace for the first time in over seventy years. He blinked lazily, his hand automatically moving to hold the one dangling over his waist. Steve's hand, he remembered. His Steve, who had come to save him. Memories of pain and torture and murder tried to worm into his head, but he blocked them by turning over to look at Steve. The blond was fast asleep, lips parted and eyelashes casting thin shadows across his cheekbones. In the early morning sunlight he looked like he was made of gold. Bucky snuggled closer, holding Steve's hand in his flesh one, and Steve looked like he smiled in his sleep.

Bucky didn't move for close to an hour. He could hear Steve's heartbeat, steady and strong, a life vest for a drowning man. It had still been a little dark when he'd first awakened, but the high-rise view of the dawn made up for the early hour. So did the fact that he'd woken up warm and safe. For that alone he owed Steve much more than he could ever pay him.

Leaving the bed hurt him because it meant leaving the comfort of Steve. The room was colder outside, despite his long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants, and he stretched cat-like in the doorway of the bedroom. He crossed the living room and leaned his hip against the wall of glass, staring out at the multicoloured sky. For the first time he let himself try a smile. It was tiny, but it was genuine. All his belongings had been moved into the spare bedroom on Steve's floor, and he gave up the view to find himself a change of clothes. He considered a shower but he didn't want to wake up Steve.

It only took him a few minutes to get changed. Stark, being the person he was, had made sure that at least half the clothing delivered for Bucky had a Captain America theme. Bucky chose a pair of greyish-coloured jeans and a blue t-shirt with a simplistic, stylized version of Steve's shield on it. Fortunately Stark had thought to include a couple pairs of combat boots, and there were half a dozen plain black hoodies hanging in the closet. Bucky couldn't resist standing in the doorway of the bedroom, pausing a moment to let his gaze linger on Steve's face, before returning to the kitchen. After grabbing a couple Pop Tarts from the pantry – he'd never tasted one but there were at least a dozen boxes in the pantry so he figured they couldn't be too bad – he stood in front of the elevator and pressed the down button.

“JARVIS, can you keep everyone else out of the elevator?” Bucky asked after the doors closed behind him. He stood in the middle of the floor rather than against one of the bars, body swaying as the elevator started its descent. “Today's going pretty well so far and I'd rather not ruin a good thing, y'know?”

The elevator doors slid shut. “Of course, Mr. Barnes. May I ask your destination in case Mr. Rogers asks for you?” JARVIS queried.

“Going to the library to see if I can find some of those Lord of the Rings books,” Bucky answered. “Movies were pretty good. Don'tcha still need a card to take library things out of the building?” When JARVIS confirmed this information, Bucky simply shrugged. “I'll read them at the library, then. Any idea which one's closest?”

When the elevator doors opened his shoulders were casually slumped and his body language was relaxed. His hands were buried in his pockets but his relaxed posture and smirking grin would convince the security that he wasn't about to pull a weapon on them. Besides, he'd come from the Avengers part of the Tower, and JARVIS, or a team member, would have alerted them to any problems. He winked and smiled at the pretty girl behind the receptionist's desk and held the door open for a few women walking into the lobby. “Ladies,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “Nice to see you this morning.” They giggled and walked on, one of them mentioning a guy called Remy. Seemed like the pretty ones were always taken.

On the pavement outside, Bucky looked up at the pair of security cameras above the door. He held up his hands to make a heart shape and a sad smile tugged at his lips. “Gotta go,” he mouthed, knowing somebody would read his lips and tell Steve what he'd meant. “I'm sorry, Stevie.” A group of pedestrians was coming toward him, and with a simple turn on his heel, Bucky vanished into the crowd. Was he coming back? He didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's an epilogue rather than a full chapter, but I had to leave y'all on a cliffhanger. A thousand yays for Stucky fluff though! I will confess here and now that this epilogue only exists because I had to write some of that for the ending. Brownie points to anyone who spot the X-Men reference. Let's be serious, we'd all love a Gambit/Bucky team-up. The dark hair, the flirting, the sarcasm! Ahem. Anyway. Next part of the series coming up soon!


	17. Chapter 17

Guess what? New part of the series is up! "Where Do We Go Now?" focuses on the first part of Bucky struggling with what is basically an existential crisis. Read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4975399/chapters/11426659)!

This part of the series will be going a bit deeper into Bucky's rough past, and there will be quite a lot more flashback- and combat-oriented violence. Steve doesn't come in much until the end, as Bucky is on the run with another person for most of the series, but we do get the Stucky we all need. Many thanks to all the amazing people who have read my story so far! I love you all <3


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